When did that happen? December?
The last month of 2013.
It’s been a weird year. On the one hand it was all amazing with Vienna and Salzburg and Mozart’s house and driving up the coast of California and so much poetry written and read and heard and published and indian food and Chagall and Klimt and a new little baby named Wes and Nietzsche and novel writing about memory and the theory of eternal return….
and on the other hand there’s been sad things and weird things and few more sad things….
so basically I guess it’s been like all the other years. Some good. Some bad. Some not even worth mentioning.
At the very least I have managed to get a lot of writing done this year. While these five am writing mornings five days a week are probably shortening my life significantly, there’s at least ink on paper, right? Enough to bury me in.
It’s based on a true story. That all actually happened at the Duomo (pictured above) in Florence just about a year and a half ago. And yes, my poor husband does have to put up with me mouthing off to strangers.
Thanks again to Regardless of Authority.
Peace, Love and Starbursts,