Wednesday, 4 December 2013


Sometimes you find yourself doubting every goddamn thing. Big gods, small gods, all the ones in between.

One day you find a set of light brown rosary beads smack in the middle of the road outside the hospital. You were weeping and faithless at the time but picked them up anyway, took them back to your ward. When you wear them they go straight down your cleavage.

Ever notice that everything hums, everything speaks to you? *Especially* mandarins.

Some days you're so broken you can't make sense of anything. Or find a reason. Or remember your faith. Adrift. (Just remember that the days you look around at everybody else who seem to have it all figured out - they don't.)

Lastly: no day ever gets worse by eating a cupcakie with a dear little face and sprinkle hair.

And days always end. Thank god, the days always end.

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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