Friday, 1 March 2013
March, already. I want it to be March, sigh for the shift away from grey winter, but time's headlong gallop also frightens me - the reins that trail in the dust, that I can't catch hold of.
A fair-sized work project to be completed in just a week means really cracking on with it every day until it's done, and this is a good challenge, which I seem to be up to. The brain is in a better state than it was a year ago. But the heart is a different matter, and everything that matters, really, comes from there.
In the coming season, will time slow down a bit, revealing doors to be pushed open? - and what will be written on those doors? - or will it continue to flash past, ungraspable?