purpose

 No matter what there is always a solution.

But there is always poetry too.

And always poetic justice.

I would not have one second of my life any different (Plato and Aristotle failed to figure in)

Even now...

in a small town where the signal is so poor at the plug

in the pub

i have to go outside to finish the job

And thus finish the battery

just to upload a few silly photos to a silly blog

silly, as no one will ever get it.

But the poetry.

She, her place just behind...five years ago was it

denies the sublime...

because she made the purpose of it sour by  finding no purpose in a conversation i know full well she had never had before.About that sublime she wanted to describe and seek

But then artists.... can never actually be human even around the subject they too yearn to understand...and she had me in her hand. 

Only to blow away...

But then...what next. Just her self pity.... and early grave.

"the sublime recreates itself every day..." so said the Oxford Fellow...except he couldnt live his magnificent line...

well this image is his line brought to life

As is the hardest woman in the world, again, only life...

And every time a rejection of something good comes along it makes me want to live and live living even more...

never mind even more creative something or other come to pass