In the brief interlude between my last blog post and the one that I uploaded a short while back, much has changed and much has not. My favourite city in the world is home now. Some old memories of a little girl growing up in a book filled house have grown fainter, because a little boy is growing up in another book filled house and creating new memories at a breathless pace. The racer continues to race along - some paths shall never diverge. Old friends remain, and I realise I will probably grow old together with this lot.
And new friends emerge - who write me poems and bring food over.
In all this, there is the daily business of work-hobbies-chores to repeat cycles of.
Even as I remind myself, how good it is to write again.
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