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A dear friend shared his thoughts with me. All I could do to comfort him, was to understand…


… just returned home from the shack.


I know what you mean about hating memories. I have to make a conscious effort to focus on those that haven’t been burnt out of me by tragedy and the ruin of depression. Sometimes that seems impossible. I see beauty all round me but sometimes cannot feel it in my heart even as I recognize it. I think as we get older our sensitivities etch a sadness that mars our capacity for appreciation.


…I felt empty. I’m not always like this but something sometimes feels broken. We both seem to share this malady – and it can stay without abatement for long periods of time. I usually get angry enough at some point to will it away.



Art: Egon Schiele



Not here

she is more present

than ever

Not here

she invades my thoughts

and my movements

Now unimpeded

lead me nowhere

In stunned immobility

I wait in vain

for the touch of her paw.


(for Shashi)