One is either a poet or a consumer. Blanket statement, I know. I am sorry.
I am not going to force this but let it come naturally.
There is no movement, no sudden intake of breath. All is, if not restful, quiet.
December is hectic in a wholly different way. Although a joy, it takes a big chunk out of one, I think.
One can either be a daydreamer or a consumer. Never both. I wonder why that is. Or maybe it’s just me?
I think long walks and a deep burrowing with good books and a cuppa is in order. Just thinking about that makes me want to weep.
No dualism here. Both sides are in accord.