"For us, our house is not insentient matter—it has a heart, and a soul, and eyes to see us with; and approvals, and solicitudes, and deep sympathies; it is of us, and we are in its confidence, and live in its grace and in the peace of its benediction. We never come home from an absence that its face does not light up and speak out its eloquent welcome—and we can not enter it unmoved."
—Mark Twain, 1896
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Wednesday, April 28, 2010

UH?

Sedated by the rain, if you cared, I’d say is like being under the influence of a hallucinogenic. After a day or so, you become numb. But I’m guessing you don’t care or are soooo tired of reading about the rain, that you‘ve probably already shut down by now.

Ah bloody hell, I did have something truly deep and pretentious to write here, honest. But sometimes the profoundness (is that a word?) thins out and just rambles.……..no, not yet, still thin (don‘t I wish). Buggers.

I just happen to be a walker between two worlds, influenced mostly by that other world. The one where I live the majority of the time. And that’s why I get confused……………..I sometimes forget where I am. You see, there are those who are insightful, and those who are not, and the words, at times, are delivered to the wrong side.

 Oh dear, which side am I on today?

They say the best view is written by someone who is on the outside looking in, and I tend to agree with "they" as the perspective of it all rings with clarity from a distance. Just a matter of finding the right words so as not to be so dull that you begin to roll your eyes. Like now.

Do I have to pop-in a picture with every post?
Is there a rule about that in Blogger land?
.

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