One of these days she will be no more. One of these days, reading over these words I will feel guilt building up within my chest walls. Misplaced guilt, although what I feel is just. The never ending demands (commands) with the empirical tone. The never ending narcissism.
One of these days she will be gone, and just like today, I will be sad, because day after day in spite of her eighty years she can only look inward. By doing so, she has missed so much. So much that has been right before her eyes and she never saw.
What a pity
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Ramblings on life, mine. Walking through life as gracefully as I can.
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