I watch them. Their ways, their means, their choices, their habits. I watch their leaves turn to the light, see what they like, don’t like, watch their roots in glass vessels grow.
A malaise. A disenchantment. A depth without depth. Caitlin at Broadside blog recently penned an inspiring piece, citing a New York Times article, calling it… well… a languishing. It was like I was […]
Things have stories, memories attached, bits of, scraps of, little pieces of our life. Of ancestors, voices from our past whisper, happy or sad, I love things that have a rich provenance. I suppose it grounds me, tea towel in the wind I once could be, or so mom always said.
the temenos journal 