Monday, February 21, 2011
What does it all mean? What is it good for? There have been those who have urged me to spend my time doing "better" things. I am glad, in this case, that I listened to my own heart pulse, that I kept blogging. For as raw as some of this is, as unfinished, as sometimes redundant, as at times too frail or too skimpy or too soft, it exists, and because it does some part of a world that would have otherwise drifted remains—the weather I lived, the moonscapes I saw, the flowers I walked past, the people and books I have loved. You, too, exist. In your comments and in your goodness toward this strange and still enterprise.