Winter, After You
On the Season You Became a Stranger Grief is not a state but a landscape; you wake in it one morning and realize it has changed its shape while you slept. - C.S. Lewis Snow settles on the silent lawns, a hush drawn tight across the town; I walk the path we traced together before you left - and took them down.
Like a Squirrel on a Wheel
I used to analyze myself down to the last thread, used to compare myself with others, recalled all the smallest glances, smiles and words... interpreted everything in a bad light... and in the midst of my laughing, I'd give way to sadness, fall into ludicrous despondency and once again start the whole process all over again - in short, I went round and round like a squirrel on a wheel. - Fyodor Dostoyevsky I was standing by the vending machine at five in the morning,
