Someday my friend if you feel the need to pass this way today know that I am thinking of you, your girl Cheryl and her little boy.
Much love and I hope you are thriving out there.


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@rainddropsonroses
Someday my friend if you feel the need to pass this way today know that I am thinking of you, your girl Cheryl and her little boy.
Much love and I hope you are thriving out there.

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My friend. A pal from London sent me a photo of McDonalds a few days ago and for some reason this reminded me of way back when I used to eat very crappy food and text you about it and you would scold me. I hope you are well. I think of you and everyone I met here very often. Life has been rough lately and I am feeling very lost and hopeless, but when I saw that picture and got those memories back it made me smile :). I'm sending lots of love to you guys. Stay healthy and safe. -xx someday
Hello my friend,
I think of you often as well and try and remember why we found any mention of pie so side achingly funny.
I'm sorry to hear things are not going well for you at the moment, the world is a tougher place than it was which makes all our problems harder to deal with. I hope you have friends out there you can lean on. I think our time here showed we can make unexpected but precious connections where ever we are and I wish that for you in your present circumstances.
Much love xx
Friend! It has been so so long since I've shown signs of life (but I am living!) most obviously because this year felt like a mere figment of my imagination (oh I wish it were). Summer was tentatively fun and certainly tiring, but I'm more than ready for winter - I have many exciting things coming up and will be kept busy. I think of you and others here every now and then; yesterday someone mentioned baking a pie and I was laughing like a weirdo by myself. Stay safe and much love to all xx đ
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Why was that even so funny? But a joke we will always share.
So lovely to hear that in these strangest of times you are keeping well.
Itâs Someday everyone!
Lots of love back to you, take care.
Someday my friend, if you are passing by, I was really sorry to read about Sarah.
Honeymoon Pools just out of Collie, Western Aus

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Andy Goldsworthy
The Stolen Orange
When I left I stole an orange I kept it in my pocket It felt like a warm planet Everywhere I went smelt of oranges Whenever I got into an awkward situation I'd take out the orange and smell it And immediately on even dead branches I saw The lovely and fierce orange blossom That smells so much of joy When I went out I stole an orange It was a safeguard against imagining There was nothing bright or special in the world
- Brian Patten
Forget About Me
by Pablo Neruda
Among the things the sea throws up, let us hunt for the most petrified, violet claws of crabs, little skulls of dead fish, smooth syllables of wood, small countries of mother-of-pearl; let us look for what the sea undid insistently, carelessly, what it broke up and abandoned, and left behind for us.
Petals crimped up, cotton from the tidewash, useless sea-jewels, and sweet bones of birds still in the poise of flight.
The sea washed up its tidewrack, the air played with the sea-things; when there was sun, it embraced them, and time lives close to the sea, counting and touching what exists.
I know all the algae, the white eyes of the sand, the tiny merchandise of the tides in autumn, and I walk with the plump pelican, building its soaking nests, sponges that worship the wind, shelves of undersea shadow, but nothing more moving than the vestiges of shipwrecksâ the smooth abandoned beams gnawed by the waves and disdained by death.
Let us look for secret things somewhere in the world, on the blue shore of silence or where the storm has passed, rampaging like a train. There the faint signs are left, coins of time and water, debris, celestial ash and the irreplaceable rapture of sharing in the labour of solitude and the sand.
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The More Loving One
by W.H. Auden
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well That, for all they care, I can go to hell, But on earth indifference is the least We have to dread from man or beast. How should we like it were stars to burn With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me. Admirer as I think I am Of stars that do not give a damn, I cannot, now I see them, say I missed one terribly all day. Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky And feel its total dark sublime, Though this might take me a little time.

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gigihadid for + LâANNĂE 97 + @jacquemus F/W 2020/21
Opulent October -  Tom Thomson, 1915-16.
Canadian,1877-1917
Oil on canvas, 54.0 x 77.3 cm.
Elegy
by Leonard Cohen
Do not look for him In brittle mountain streams: They are too cold for any god; And do not examine the angry rivers For shreds of his soft body Or turn the shore stones for his blood; But in the warm salt ocean He is descending through cliffs Of slow green water And the hovering coloured fish Kiss his snow-bruised body And build their secret nests In his fluttering winding-sheet.
The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my childrenâs lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
Distant Regard
by Tony Hoagland
If I knew I would be dead by this time next year I believe I would spend the months from now till then writing thank-you notes to strangers and acquaintances, telling them, âYou really were a great travel agent,â or âI never got the taste of your kisses out of my mouth.â or âWatching you walk across the room was part of my destination.â It would be the equivalent, I think, of leaving a chocolate wrapped in shiny foil on the pillow of a guest in a hotelâ âHotel of earth, where we resided for some years together,â I start to say, before I realize it is a terrible cliche, and stop, and then go on, forgiving myself in a mere split second because now that Iâm dying, I just go forward like water, flowing around obstacles and second thoughts, not getting snagged, just continuing with my long list of thank-yous, which seems to naturally expand to include sunlight and wind, and the aspen trees which gleam and shimmer in the yard as if grateful for being soaked last night by the irrigation system invented by an individual to whom I am quietly grateful. Outside it is autumn, the philosophical season, when cold air sharpens the intellect; the hills are red and copper in their shaggy majesty. The clouds blow overhead like governments and years. It took me a long time to understand the phrase âdistant regard,â but I am grateful for it now, and I am grateful for my heart, that turned out to be good, after all; and grateful for my mind, to which, in retrospect, I can see I have never been sufficiently kind.

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Home Fields, John Singer Sargent
Medium: oil,canvas
https://www.wikiart.org/en/john-singer-sargent/home-fields
The Blue Robe
by Wendell Berry
How joyful to be together, alone as when we first were joined in our little house by the river long ago, except that now we know each other, as we did not then; and now instead of two stories fumbling to meet, we belong to one story that the two, joining, made. And now we touch each other with the tenderness of mortals, who know themselves: how joyful to feel the heart quake at the sight of a grandmother, old friend in the morning light, beautiful in her blue robe!Â