Tuesday, September 17, 2013

The End

Drunken writers and so called poets, drinking deeply of their own emptiness. and a word of acceptance seems like the world of acceptance to them, they are empty and they are hungry and they lust for accompaniment, they are hungry and they live in a particular poverty. And this poverty somehow makes them feel wealth, for they can progress no further, this beginning actually is the the end.

A new Day

And yesterday it was my birthday. A have now reached the ago of 72. I am enjoying this getting older I have to confess. I have no fear for i...