Pointless
We all spend our lives now trying not to become data points on a graph.
The sign at the Supermarket checkout proudly said “new winners every day”, which is a much better deal than we all get at the Life checkout.
Writing a memoir is a life’s work. It has to be earned by the lines of your face, the wrinkles of your hands, the night fears of your sleep, the weariness of your brain, the failing of your body, and finished just in time.
Old age is being dropped into a jungle by parachute and trying to survive using only your wits.
Plumes of smoke on a cold Winter’s day bring thoughts of warmth and community and human busyness and achievement. Plumes of smoke on a hot Summer’s day bring thoughts of destruction and terror and loss and anger and failure.
The Butcher Bird singing, beautifully, from the old dead tree this morning, doesn’t know about coronavirus.
You don’t battle cancer, but you do battle side effects and after effects that are caused by cancer treatment.
Last school day, last work day, last drive, last sex, last walk, last outdoors, last room, last meal, last breath.
Last orders please Read More »
I weep bitter tears when drought breaking rain is forecast and I get just a little bit less than bugger all
Raindrops keep failing Read More »