the idea of second encounters, or chances, continue to tickle my inner senses, but not as much as the thrill i feel in my heart as i face my everyday and meet new people. i am never the same.
i do not see peter pan fluttering through my windows anytime soon but my mind waits forever.
yet, as the spring and summer come again, little hopes and this little faith are all that i have to start the seasons afresh.
ah, these words, they still lack the strength of my imagination, as i feel like my writing has gone down the drain, away to there where my insights could not penetrate. away to there where my insights could not penetrate.