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[hearts cannot grow in swollen lands]

tiny worlds held together by their tightly wound little selves that exist nowhere and nothing outside of themselves does either words glimmer solely as mirrors to their enormous beings that tower over the tired futility of wordsmiths and feelings are mere moments in a triumphant globe of disconnection and pools of reflection that reject all…

[tales of synchronicity]

I was on the train to PA (as I usually am at least once a week) a couple of weeks ago. I was reading something, I forget exactly what, and I was reminded of Gretchen Rubin, the writer. I’d read her book The Happiness Project last year when I was desperately looking for some happiness in the…

[a world, so many worlds]

During a visualisation exercise recently, I saw a scene that surprised me. I was in a huge space, like a hall, perhaps, with high ceilings and wraparound floor to ceiling windows. It may have been somewhere near the top floors of a building. There were people lifting rows of huge planks of wood, constructing something in the hall. I…