Changes, A re-blog

Love it. Close to the bone. Reblogging.

Between the Lines

We walk along the ageing edge of things, reading tombstones like book titles. Everyone has a story, you say, and I wonder what percentage of my story is a prank. It’s all too depressing here, you say, but I find Highgate strangely calming, as if existing amongst these fates is an affirmation. And the wind blows leaves around my feet, it pipes a little tune over the empty flower vases. I think they’re playing our song, I say, but you don’t see the humour in it.

Only clouds and light
The wind singing as it spins
Quiet buried away

 

 

dVerse “Changes” and in Haibun form. Image: Highgate Cemetery in London

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About Nan Mykel

At 79, I was just about to stop keeping a journal, but that felt like accepting that growth was finished. I don't want to be finished, yet! I'm 80 now, and struggling to communicate with you, if you'll come and set awhile. P.S. My how time flies! I'm 82 now.
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