This life is wondrous, sometimes darkly treacherous. Most of the time I am a witness, just a piece of our minds eye, an illuminating fresca, easy as one, two, three. Being alive is like Rosemary’s baby. Her head is spinning in circles in a movie called Psycho. She is screaming out 3-D green vomit into your mind, already pretty darn fractured from being alive in the time of plague. Living turns into a wonderama of laughter and joy. It is when it shatter-cracks like blown glass murals on the day Pompeii died, that the price of it all comes madly exacting it’s gasttly due. Right?
Other times it doesn’t feel like that all. It is a glorious joy-ride through the heavens of a very beautiful sky of emeralds & diamond eyes that are even more beautiful than that. That is what life really is, the rest is bullshit.