…I can’t say I’ve got much of any interest to say I’m afraid. So have a poem instead:

Bad Times Give You Something To Talk About

 

Part of us dies with every breath

And so we breathe a living death

Each move each word penned with regret

Upon a page they’ll soon forget

Within the grand book of the world

History, herstory, each boy and girl,

Recorded, remembered until the page turns

 

Everyone lives but nobody learns

 

Positive, huh? Wrote it a while back.

 

I’m off to sleep now…I have work tomorrow and a party in the eve and rather a lot of unfinished work to do!

 

And on that note – adieu.

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