every little thing has a consequence and sometimes they don’t go the way you’d like. somedays you meet a stranger in a tea cafe and there is a shift from one end of the spectrum to another. other days you cling so rigidly to what and whom you are, so very sure you are, that you let a precious thing slide.
but when the moon shines on the bough of the tree outside my house and the porch looks ever so inviting, i can’t think.
and the third of the greatest forks so far fades until there is no choice at all.
being what you are and who you are is no choice at all.