Tuesday, 18 June 2001 is when I began writing this blog. Phew. It's 2016. Way past June. And I wonder whether the me of June 2001 imagined or even thought it worth imagining to see how long this venture would persist. From there to now, we have traversed careers, continents, and possibilities. It is now the 6th of October 2016. And now it might be time to be back here, talking of all the things I continue to love and care about. Writing, food, people, books, animals, and things. And love. And poetry. And astonishment. So yes, we will be here for a while now. And so it begins...
The worm drives helically through the wood
And does not know the dust left in the bore
Once made the table integral and good;
And suddenly the crystal hits the floor.
Electrons find their paths in subtle ways, A massless eddy in a trail of smoke;
The names of lovers, light of other days
Perhaps you will not miss them. That's the joke.
The universe winds down. That's how it's made.
But memory is everything to lose; Although some of the colors have to fade,
Do not believe you'll get the chance to choose.
Regret, by definition, comes too late;
Say what you mean. Bear witness. Iterate.
-- John M Ford