The concrete sky..outside my window does not draw me to out and play amongst the hairy catterpillars....instead i sit in this room..sometimes i call it a study perhaps more of a shrine....i am perhaps more like a door mouse i hoard things from fallen leaves to every airline ticket i have perhaps flown by people come in the room and say junk...what happens when you no longer walk in comfortable shoes who's goind to throw it all away..perhaps they might linger...to the book...The Road Less Travelled...a book that changed my life.... perhaps they might linger longer when they open draws to female clothes and ponder whom i was, perhaps they will simply bin it all in five minutes...but for now it is all treasured stuff picked from my journey along lifes rocky road....mostly alone with my thoughts..and thankful to whom ever looks after me, to not have been stuffed in a lorry in Germany with seventy other souls and perished...this past week...
Some one is making buckets of dollars over this tragic event walking all over Europe..the answer to it all perhaps lies at the bottom of the bucket to dark to dirty for our leaders to fathom....the word imigrant is talked about as a band word, spoken, written, about in the media..they are people and rightly so..best tell that to the Human Trafficers..and Politicians and the so called people whom haunt God and carry guns...I wonder what my old friend Hugh would say to all this, if he was still wearing comfortable shoes..and to quote him...So Goeth...