The absolute least I owe myself is to be wretched with flair. I should be miserably wet and cold in a flooded jungle, lost and tormented in a mountain, or in the depths of despair over implementing participatory watershed management. If nothing else, I should take to poetry.
This waiting for a letter is a commonplace way of being miserable. not worthy of me.
1 comment:
Chicu,
This one is just absolutely AWESOME!!! hahaha
Yes, waiting for that damn letter (no matter who it’s coming from or why) IS MISERABLE!
I love the way you capture the feeling and then release it…
Tammy
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