I feel most comfortable in old, shabby places.
Kindred spirits, peeling paint, strategic sagging.
I wonder if they knew what was coming.
Neither do I.
“The lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne." --Chaucer
In happiness my words I lack, in grief they overflow.
"He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life." ...James Joyce
THE DRIVELLINGS OF TWATTERSLEY FROMAGE