my parents.
Are still treating me like an idiot but I don't see them with a PhD (in spite of opposition), or a self made successful company (I founded their hospitality business). Furthermore, what's so wrong about allowing me my voice?
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I am prone to sitting in a cosy corner with my notebook and jotting down ideas. I do flaneur for fun, and I am just a villager who's all burned out! Taking life in the slow lane, enjoy my open notebook! This is my reverie, my sacred space. Here the heart opens and the wounds heal. Visions and archangels guide me through a maze of confusion and despair to really marvel at th light of day. I have my wits but little else.
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