Looking through my picture gallery, this one seemed to match my inner landscape closely. Often there are no words. The ones that are there are just not good enough. What is left to say? What is the point anyway? It is just what it is. At this point I feel strangely free. I have no fear of loosing anything anymore. Nothing seems to matter. A few months ago, I felt strongly about visiting Machu Pichu in the near future but now it doesn’t matter at all. The job, the weather, money, clothes…….nothing is important. All that matters are people, far and near, who form the fabric of our lives and help us cope. They matter.
“An incalculable number of light years from the warmth of the sun. When the rain falls, it falls in droplets of grief, and when the light shines, it is in waves and particles of grief. From whatever direction the wind blows–south, east, north or west– it blows cinders of grief before it. Grief stings your eyes and sucks the breath from your lungs. No oxygen on this planet, no nitrogen; the atmosphere is composed entirely of grief.” [By the Time You Read This, by Giles Blunt]