Sometimes I come across something another writer has written and I wish I wrote it. Of course I'd have to pick something of Shakespeare's sooner or later. Here's a line from Hamlet. #blogging #writing #inspired
Sometimes I come across something another writer has written and I wish I wrote it. Here's a line from Chernobyl. #blogging #writing #inspired
Since my father passed away I find myself thinking of him daily. Sure I have his obituary hanging on my fridge; a stark reminder that he's no longer a phone call or short drive away. He is the furthest away anyone can possibly be from anther person. But I don't need that photo of him and that brief snippet, which painfully encapsulates his life in one short paragraph of near meaninglessness, to remind me that he is dead and gone.
At 45 years of age I've come to realise that nothing is really ever perfect, especially if I'm a variable in the equation (I won't talk about math a lot, promise). I try to make perfect my lodestar; something for which to strive. At least where writing is concerned not so much about gardening or yard-work.