The willow tree beside my hovel is a gateway. It leads to jungle drums with tiny onion-headed people and two-legged lizards with square-shaped eyes. When kids were submerged in the rivers of patience and put to trials of competence. It was always adapt or die. Some people were born with better traits than others. There was no substitution for dedication and hard work. It wasn't the difficulty we missed. It was the shared challenge of the tasks that made the journey into memorable nostalgia.
1:33 p.m. - 2017-04-10
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
As-I-know-it
Nicim
Breathe-Salt
Swordfern
Star-Brite
Swallowthkey
ATwoWayDream
HumHum
Secret-motel
AndWeBreathe
MovingSands
WeAteTheSea