“Hang in there”, they said.But he wasn’t hanging at all, his fingers were building a home for himself.He was climbing. If he seemed to them to be hanging, how can we tell them that it’s because he liked to live on the edge?He liked to be right where he was, in mid air.He depended onContinue reading “Hang in There”
A collection of my writings. A spool of thoughts undone.
Beisan's Burble 