(Literally, Water of Life, the Gaelic name for Whiskey)
After seven months of foot surgery and continuing recovery, I put on a pair of shoes.
Trapped in a maze,
Folded arms, weary eyes, drooping shoulders,Staring at emptiness since words departed,Fluttering pages unsettling the drifting…
“If you have a garden in your library,” wrote Cicero to Varro…
Coming home to a dark house is so fucking forlorn. For a second, I want to hurl myself over the railing to the concrete below, but I…