And in one of her contemplative moods, the sage behind mahogany eyes wondered if the world was an empty vessel, inks dried, stories forgotten, ideas choked…
The ideal setting for a bud to flower in dire circumstances. It’s time. Perish or flourish.
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Without a care in the world, the little girl checked for ticks in the heavy fur coat of gentle giant, I could feel the scorn of unsuspecting eyes but then the truth in Neil Gaiman’s words from American Gods, resonated all over again, “I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we’ll all be wiped out by the common cold like Martians in War of the Worlds.”
And so another day passes me by.