I do like words. Putting them together to make sense of ideas that are sometimes just vague shapes of thoughts in my head. And I kind of know who reads this - and even when they are reading it - thanks to the ooh so creepy voyeuristicity that is the tracking code written into the html of the page template (hey, you read about my life, I know where and sometimes who you are, what computer you are sitting at, which web site you came from...). There are passers by out there, coming in from all over the world, Canada, India, France all the time. There are occasional visitors, some of whom I know and some who are total strangers please say hi if you pause to read me catching a glimpse of this description of the aspects of my life that I choose to portray - and who knows how real that is? Then there are the regulars, those that I know - mostly by real name and face too, which is a nice thing. So when I want to say something in particular to one of them either I can call them on the phone or suggest it here for all to see.


But sometimes I find myself making a decision; whether or not to write about things that are private. Not necessarily things that I don't want others to know about, but perhaps just that I don't want to express inadequately. I am an open person and I don't really have secrets, though there are times when no words seem good enough.

But there is a place in my life right now. A lovely place that I like to go and for which I might just have found a description. It is the very apex of beauty, I can almost feel it within my grasp as I write, and it is very nice indeed. I can't wait to be there soon, so until then, goodnight. Goodnight.