My father was born into poverty. Deep poverty. He was born into violence, as his father was. That was the excuse for his insanities. He wanted out and he got out. He fought his way out. – And what is the excuse for mine. Too much money – not enough love. Surrender is my strength. Bow before God. Give. Belief. Faith. Receive. Know there is enough.
To all of my regular readers, thank you. We have hung in there.
This is still a personal journal, but with a new twist. I have joined a writer’s group. I never thought this would be possible here in the tropics. I am grateful. Once a week I get to meet with other writers and artists. We have discussions about the how to get our work out there.
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Fish Eye Farm 