Calling
You have to respect the maniacal joy of a magpie, in the middle of this grey drizzly day. Her, don’t-give-a-shit secret, she flies with, feeds on, follows...
You have to respect the maniacal joy of a magpie, in the middle of this grey drizzly day. Her, don’t-give-a-shit secret, she flies with, feeds on, follows...
I wake up, it’s light, there’s a slight wind slipping through the trees, and above these, is that purity of blue that arrives with a clear morning. ...
You’re a reasonably good father. Your colossal mistakes are distant, the smaller ones have thinned out, and for sanity, you’ve been able to forgive ...
These days I’m thinking about a metaphor found in the writings of Simone Weil: Two prisoners in adjoining cells are divided by a rock wall. Over what must...