Monthly Archives: August 2014

What is Real?

What is real?  Is it the conversation I am having with someone as I deeply sleep, where I am explaining my plight in this existence to someone who might actually care, or am I simply talking to myself?  That is … Continue reading

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A Blank Page

This morning I face a blank page.  Being alone, having morning coffee, listening to the birds chirping out in the forest, I come to write, to somehow appease this deep sense that I am forever alone.  Why do I feel … Continue reading

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