The night romantic who grows stronger out of the eye of the world, the small girl, the analyst, the realist, the memory keeper...the only one that still tries to hide from you is the woman. She's here. Not hidden very well, I think.
A new day is here.
I find it interesting that in all the swirling, dancing web of life, the soul deep feelings and expressions, the surface running manager, the laughter, the tears...it all exists together, mostly balanced. At times one wants the stage more than the others, another needs it.
My life is a good one. Please don't ever confuse my late night rambles with a governing sadness. Joy exists in me at a cell level, it's stronger than anything else, except possibly hope.
My friend, it's cancer.
Life. What a strange, strange creation it is.
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