Words, meaning, feeling, poetry
I sat at a well-worn table in what used to be a store, now turned into a cultural center of sorts. Listening to a poetry reading. I don’t even remember when I was at a live poetry reading before that.
I sat at a well-worn table in what used to be a store, now turned into a cultural center of sorts. Listening to a poetry reading. I don’t even remember when I was at a live poetry reading before that.
So many people I meet mention that they want to write a book. Maybe even vaguely dream of being discovered as the next F. Scott Fitzgerald or Hemingway or Stephen King.
When I grew up, long before the internet and Facebook, pre-teens and teens were encouraged to have pen pals.
Making sense. Sorting it out. Living.
We’re on this journey called life and get to figure it out as we go along. Looking at Life, Faith, Stuff and how they interact in the crossroads of life.
As Yoda would say: “Choose carefully, we must.”
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