Blog reflections WRITING

Street | life

Street | life

They called him Street. I never knew his real name.

The aunt that generally doesn’t come to mind, the one I recently wrote about, well Street was hers and the day I wrote about her Street ceased to be.

I have no emotions one way or the other but what I do have is irony seated beside coincidence in a debate about the existence of timing, and of existence.

At a certain age and it’s different for everyone, you know that everything turns out the way intended and that all the turmoil experienced is born from the idea that things should be different. So then begins our once upon a times and reflections about what and who has come and gone.

In the end we are here. Here bumbling and mumbling with the present – to contend with or unwrap and embrace.

Death is no choice and Love is not its counterpart, so do more of this living stuff.

Live and choose Love.

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