There is no normal life. Only time smoldering as it does in the throes of its fire. There is no green grass. Just fields that go on forever. As colorless from this side as they are from any other.
There is no empty nest. Only fledglings that failed to fly. Crippled at the base of this tree we call life.
I don't know when the sun went down in your world, but I do know it won't rise in this one.
Find yourself first and then everything else will be easier to.
Your tragedy is you don't know how fortunate you are.
Wednesday
12/21/2005 11:27:00 PM
Your writing is as good as it was before, now, for the past 10 or so posts. So I guess, the little slip in between wasn't due to alcohol after all. Taking it back.
You can't read my writing (which tends to get the stupider the more I drink, so maybe that's why the comment) anywhere because I deleted my blog istanbulwitch and because everything else I write is in Turkish.
Maybe I'll start another blog sometime or finally get my work translated into english. Then, I'll let you know.
Cheers,
zeyno
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