Here I am again, Lord, facing a blank page with an empty mind, wondering why my love for the written word is hampered by the inability to forge the right ones in an easy flow. And has my passion for photography disappeared or is it suffering from not being fed by frequent changes of scenery? I thought that I had fared so well in this past season of little light. I had even been able to exercise with a reasonable frequency. Or is it something I fear even more than death, the loss of myself in that dreaded disease Alzheimer? Am I being consumed by that green devil called Envy? Or is it despair disguised as admiration thinking that those bloggers I marvel at have no problem with the flow of words onto the page, that their Muses visit them often with their gifts of word-weaving, and clear visions of just the right likeness t o accompany their verses? Or, horror of horrors,...
my photos, my thoughts