There are times I run, with scissors, balls to the wall, wide open, damn the torpedoes  full speed ahead, and all that.

Then there are times of reflection.

Little glimpses of light, of darkness, of what may have been and what is slowly drifting across the black canvas of life.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s