Dear reader,
Happy Easter, a time of chicks blooming, all things chirping, budding, cracking and opening.
How is it that, on this once-a-year day, one could feel so glum? Well, human existence is always a little more complicated than earthy existence, despite the two being of each other.
I can’t get the stove to light and am cold, haven’t slept the past two nights and above the chimney, against a backdrop of fog there seems a slight smock hazy smoky smell, a paralysis of the air.
This turning time, this precipice, I too am turning and if not upward then certainly around. The ground is turning too and the silver birch has finally released parcels of bright green.
I’ve changed my mind a lot over the years about life, as we all do growing up, dropped into existentialism a little too many times to say. Last year I did a biggie—
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