To write about nothing is impossible.
The land the sea the sun the sky.
Life and death and birth and destruction.
We lay there and alive all night and I didn’t know for how long, or what was the time, save for the birds that had just awoken. The light was dim but at some point the birds that had just awoken were singing. They began singing to the world, as they do all over the world just before dawn, and then I knew for…
Am I as old as I think?