Those Who Live In Memories Are Never

Nighttime Is Different. Things Are Otherwise When The World Is Black. Insecurities And Hurts, Anxieties And Fears Grow Teeth At Night. P493

Memory Is A Cruel Mistress With Whom We All Must Learn To Dance.

The Stretch Of Years Leaves None Unmarked: The Blissful Sense Of Youthful Invincibility Peels Away And Responsibility Brings Its Weight To Bear.

I Probably Coughed Self-pityingly In Response, Little Aware That I Was About To Cross A Tremendous Threshold Beyond Which There Would Be No Return, That In My Hands I Held An Object Whose Simple Appearance Belied Its Profound Power. All True Readers Have A Book, A Moment, Like The One I Describe, And When Mum Offered Me That Much-read Library Copy Mine Was Upon Me.

But In My Humble Opinion, A House Needs A Good Party Once In A While; Remind Folks It Exists.