chronicle of my journey through my matriarch years - love , work, dreams, frustrations, poems, paradoxes
Thursday, October 06, 2005
My experience of being between seasons this morning at the bus stop was physical and powerful. The wind from the north, cool and brisk, bleww against my face while summer's stubborn sun, from the south, warmed my back. I felt myself in a doorway, a pocket between realities, a clear space neither this nor that - and worth recording.