Love is a curious thing. History rarely treats it well. It either builds it up into myth or discards it as wrapping for some fast food for the soul.
Which is a roundabout way of saying that two people I believed myself to be in love with at the time share a birthday (last Friday). There’s a part of me that wants there to be a third as three is a magic number, and another that says I have enough history already.….
And yes, gratuitous insertion of history into any and all discussions today. And it’s also not about writing. Other than, of course, this feeds Tom’s obsession with numbers and coinkiddings. Coincidences, sorry. I get stuck in MQ-speak. It’s funner. Kidding.
Enough procrastination. Blue autumn skies and a river liberally coated with knee high stripey socks. What. Is. Not. To. Like?
