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It is so humid & muggy here at present, into the third day, and I am even dreaming of water. And thunderstorms. It is what we need to clear the air. Also feels quite apt, as I would love to clear the air with my mother, no thunderstorm first though, just a gentle mist of melancholy and understanding of each others psyche. Doing it should be imperative really, seeing as there is a 29 year back log of shizzle to get through. What stops me? I often think about that, for as we all know, it can never be just the fault of one person; life is usually a play, not just a series of monologues. Sometimes it feels like I want to hold onto the righteous platform of somebody who was blown by the whims of others and a little battered from it, but essentially harmonious and humorous. Sometimes I think I want to protect her from her own failings because I have never doubted she loves me, and I have no desires to be Judge Judy. Maybe Tommy Grand from Cheaters, but not Judy.
My nearest and dearest give me illustrious golden nuggets on how to approach the rehabilitation on a deeper level, they turn the prism and explain in what ways the light shines through and reflects onto us both, so why do we find it so hard to communicate?
This iceberg elegantly sums up our relationship
Which lady of the lake would you like to meet, out of the two above? I for sure would scream and run a mile if the second one was to pop up. That's not Excalibur, it's a big leather whip. No thanks, I like my sexy times pleasurable.
Thank you to blogger Creative Silence for the two pictures below, he introduced me to the photographer that took them.
It is so humid & muggy here at present, into the third day, and I am even dreaming of water. And thunderstorms. It is what we need to clear the air. Also feels quite apt, as I would love to clear the air with my mother, no thunderstorm first though, just a gentle mist of melancholy and understanding of each others psyche. Doing it should be imperative really, seeing as there is a 29 year back log of shizzle to get through. What stops me? I often think about that, for as we all know, it can never be just the fault of one person; life is usually a play, not just a series of monologues. Sometimes it feels like I want to hold onto the righteous platform of somebody who was blown by the whims of others and a little battered from it, but essentially harmonious and humorous. Sometimes I think I want to protect her from her own failings because I have never doubted she loves me, and I have no desires to be Judge Judy. Maybe Tommy Grand from Cheaters, but not Judy.
My nearest and dearest give me illustrious golden nuggets on how to approach the rehabilitation on a deeper level, they turn the prism and explain in what ways the light shines through and reflects onto us both, so why do we find it so hard to communicate?
Which lady of the lake would you like to meet, out of the two above? I for sure would scream and run a mile if the second one was to pop up. That's not Excalibur, it's a big leather whip. No thanks, I like my sexy times pleasurable.
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