Without Love We All Like Birds With

Had He Known His Death Was Imminent, He Might Have Gone Somewhere Else. Instead, He Did What We All Do. He Went About His Dull Routine As If All The Days In The World Were Still To Come. ~pg 4

Consider The Word “time.” We Use So Many Phrases With It. Pass Time. Waste Time. Kill Time. Lose Time. In Good Time. About Time. Take Your Time. Save Time. A Long Time. Right On Time. Out Of Time. Mind The Time. Be On Time. Spare Time. Keep Time. Stall For Time. There Are As Many Expressions With “time” As There Are Minutes In A Day. But Once, There Was No Word For It At All. Because No One Was Counting. Then Dor Began. And Everything Changed.

Accept The Past As Past, Without Denying It Or Discarding It.

Lost Love Is Still Love. It Takes A Different Form, That's All. You Can't See Their Smile Or Bring Them Food Or Tousle Their Hair Or Move Them Around A Dance Floor. But When Those Senses Weaken Another Heightens. Memory. Memory Becomes Your Partner. You Nurture It. You Hold It. You Dance With It.

You Count The Hours You Could Have Spent With Your Mother. It's A Lifetime In Itself.