Friday, December 21, 2018
Thursday, December 20, 2018
I lie on my bed and stare out through the vertical blinds into the smoky white sky, and try to hold onto a single thought.
Everything is static and I can't find the answer that I need.
It's like I'm standing at the edge of a long tunnel, calling out into the dark and the only thing I hear is the echo of my own voice trailing off into the blackness.
Posted by andrew hillard at 2:20 PM
Saturday, December 1, 2018
"The man I am writing about is not famous. It may be that he never will be. It may be that when his life at last comes to an end he will leave no more trace of his sojourn on earth than a stone thrown into a river leaves on the surface of the water."
W. Somerset Maugham - The Razor's Edge
Posted by andrew hillard at 5:58 PM