The complexions of life are seen inside the warmth of the skin…
Franz Kafka, insurance agent and literary genius, died from tuberculosis in 1924 at the age of forty.
I am beginning to learn how I’ve avoided the work of becoming more of the authentic me.
Perceptions of the mind are created as we walk along the paths of life…
I have been grieving the loss of a friendship I never had.
It was unseasonably hot today in Huntington Beach. The sun shone down on my shoulders and the sea breeze was warm with the scent of sand and surf.
Patience is cast upon our thoughts as life carries us into a drift of constant change
“Naked Lunch” was the first thing I read by any of the beat writers.
Forgotten memories alongside seashores of forgiven mistakes
I have often pondered the reasons why some people are given the gift of longevity while other lives are cut short in death.