swirls
of thoughts. scribbling them out in paper, prob post some but for now I just want to say. I am grateful for hard painful truth. for the strange way it gives solid comfort where pretty, nice, but not so much true words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. give me a sword to swing and I will fight to see light. but don't tell me the dragon is in my head. nor that the fight will not draw blood, lest I be overcome. dang I hate when I get all metaphorical and make no sense. {updating hours later} memories flood. Україна. sitting on the cement. several age 8- 12-looking like 8-10 under-nourished children scramble for crafts. they seem happy to have colours, glitter, markers. their faces are hungrier than thier stomachs. hungry for newness, for beauty; mostly for attention. hungry to be noticed. "good job!" & a hug. enough to light up one of those faces. (how rare is affirmation in this place...how can they have a concept of their value?) I am smiling & praising &...