Here is fruit of my life: an apple, a pear, a banana. Inside the food, and central, the seed. Imperfectly round, the skin touches vaster outsides. I grow and then ripen and die. So much to touch, to bring inside. So much with which to exchange.
:- Doug.
Over my life so far I appear to have been gathering fuel and calibrating my trajectory. Now is launch.
:- Doug.
Words are imprecise conveyors of meaning. Why else write a whole book to express one idea?
:- Doug.
Powered by WordPress
| RSS 2.0
| Comments RSS 2.0
| Based on Quentin
© Copyright 2025, Learning Works, Incorporated 