Someone once did asked me why I write a blog, why write at all when you do not publish it, and get the rewards. I suppose it is the book I have not finished, the words I did not say. It has been my path that I have lead and the words are my thoughts, only written on a simple blog. Maybe, this is the book I never wrote.
In my blogs are dreams I dream instead, the joy I hope to spread, also the fear that I dread. In some small way that is what it represents and how I feel. Most of my writing comes to me like a inspiration, a vision, a word or a look. Leaving its seed in my brain and then that inspiration, vision or word make it out to become my blog.
Enough of the melodrama, it does only serve the few who question too deeply.
Gongoozler - A person who likes to mindlessly stare (at anything). If only we all had more time to stare idly and do nothing. Turns out this old word has been adopted by canal boat residents and survives there to this day.
Words are such interesting things, take Terrier, the type of dog, comes from the Latin for terra. They are bred to go into the barrows under the ground, terra is earth in Latin.
It is Friday afternoon and I am taking the rest of the day off, as I am prone to do lately. A good Americano and a fresh slice of Victoria Sponge helping my creative cells to come up with something that resembles a good read. Some over zealous seaside visitors are sitting outside, silly, twisted humans. I always say they that frequent the wind and the cold, in nothing but a jumper, must be from the north.