One-Sided Wonder

It must be quite difficult to be an author. So empty at times; so full at others. So much to say, so much wanting to have been heard. Wanting to be heard. That's probably the hardest part. It's very chancy.

How do we come across things? Stumble, chance mention, sometimes looking for them but not usually. Perhaps they come to us? Sometimes they do, I suppose.

They come, they go.

Always some loss. The face of a small child who thought you were going to be a friend forever - at least that's how it looks as you say cheery goodbyes. I thought, anyway.

Listening is so important...