When the dust settles, you see how little you have. What rapid succession of movement around that stirs the air around your shoes will still and to see what you have that keeps one rooted will numb your heart. The wind is life, the dust acquantainces, the roots family&friends. 

Advice for the new month: Choose what you want to stir-chaos/support.

Tradition is habit, but tradition is basic.

Basically imperative.

Nothing like old school to electrify us into clarity.

When something new pops by, I hop on before it scuttles away. I try to, without judging how unhygenic or lowly it may be. The newness of it entices. Sadly nothing stays new forever. One man's thrash is another man's treasure so pass me your junk.

My brother has a compo titled 'Space'. I think I'm going to write it for him.

Done.

apt how this came by, just what I needed to put a name to my insides. Jo was right. No one blogs when they're happy. 

But Im not sad.

just spacious.