Too much to do, too little time and quite a lot of it completely without meaning other than being a grown-up and putting one foot in front of the other. Not because of a compulsion, but because it is habit, it is what one does.

I was reading a book of monsters and men, and the things they do. Lines blurred to where it doesn't matter what the form is; the body does not dictate the action or the soul. There were a few lines, which struck a chord..

"..We don't want money. We want love. We want kindness. We want to be wanted and desired. We want to share. We want to live our dreams."

"What were your dreams?"

"I didn't have any. That was the problem. ..."

Maneater - a werewolf's tale, Thomas Emson




Amazing how we start out with so much of what we want, only to have it trickle to elsewhere. Sand from a broken hourglass caught in the wind, unrecycled and unreplaced. Of course I could just be tired.