September 06, 2005

The Littlest Birds Sing the Sweetest Songs...

It is strange and wonderful how time progresses. Slowly. Time is a train that I don’t think even the ticket seller knows the destination.

Time for me moves so quickly, due dates and flex days. Yet somewhere under a dark sky time moves slow enough to lose hope.

It’s been three months since I had my personal space invaded. Three months, how many freak outs? There is one thing that stands out in all of this that I have not experienced before and that is the profound sense of “naturalness”. There is no manipulation of time here.

And my sky is filled with light.

G.

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