I’ve exhausted myself from the adage, “Before I can love someone, I must love myself” (Nevermind if I adjust that to read, “learn to love.”). Though sound advice, it is too broad a statement, or dull, to be of use. I’m susceptible to being mislead by such advice, too. This week, I’m a fool for…
Tag: Prose
The Preciousness of Every Little Thing, Every Little Memory
My mom looked off for just a moment, as if some story had always been near to her and seemingly always there after all these years. As she recalled the events, the colors of the room went dull and her words became crisp and vivid. “There was that one time.” She started, as if every…
in search of every horizon's sun 