Can sunlight be distilled from wasted years? Can hope be rendered from the detritus of dreams, or peace be found between twisted broken bodies on the battlefield? Poetry drips from broken oak staves where malcontent has been left to ferment.
Saturday: Day 1 8:00am: Now begins my fast. I am abstaining from all forms of solid food for 7 days. I will only drink water and tea, perhaps a little coffee. I am not doing this to lose weight, I have been exercising, and eating well for about a year now and have made great… Continue reading One Week Without Food; A 7 Day Fast.
My job requires me to make house-calls. During my work day, I meet people. Old, young, and everywhere in-between, I know all kinds. Most people fit firmly into the center of the bell-curve of society, but there are those that stand at the outer edges of ‘normal’. These people can range from the mildly out… Continue reading The Bell-curve Of Society