Saturday, November 05, 2005

the rigours of the modern life. the only constant is change. the only anchorange is in flux and speed. sanitised, cold. without a view from nature. yet, we call this place a home. is it ?


and yet, perhaps, we always look forward to the openness, that abundance in landscape to draw solace and respite from. the harmonious crashing of the waves and the gentle beating of the winds. the cacophony of all makes sense, and once again, i find temporal peace and bliss against the dogmas of the government, and the bane of the As.

