Travel

I travel in gardens and bedrooms, basements and attics,

around corners, through doorways and windows, along sidewalks,

up stairs, over carpets, down drainpipes, in the sky,

with friends, lovers, children and heroes; perceived,

remembered, imagined, distorted, and clarified.

~ Tom Robbins ~

Another Roadside Attraction

Bitter sweet

Bitter sweet




A little bitter

A little sweet

That`s how I like my life to be

I`ll take it neat

Bitter sweet

That`s how I see the world

I like the rain

I like the dark

I like mornings in the park

The summer heat

Bitter sweet

That`s how I see the world



I`ve got the medals

I`ve got the scars

I`ve got a pocket full of hope

I got the beat

Bitter sweet

That`s how I see the world



And the moon is in my head

The moon is in my head

The moon is in my head



Marc Almond

This sheltered life

This sheltered life

You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living.

Then you read a book (Lady Chatterley, for instance), or you take a trip,

or you talk with Richard, and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating.

The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness.

The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death):

absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness.

Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it.

They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children.

And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song,

and it awakens them and saves them from death.

Anais Nin

~Leo Buscaglia

I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things….
I play with leaves.
I skip down the street
and run against the wind.







~Leo Buscaglia

Happy days

Shell Silverstein