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What we know of ourselves is partial. What we know of others is distorted by masks and lenses; refracted through misread reflections. True understanding remains elusive, not out of malice, but because our identities are always fragmented and multiplied.

She doesn't want it. She fights against it. But if she were honest, she expected more. Perhaps she's too sincere. Perhaps she’s too naive, too...

Physically frail and fading, failing; still strong in spirit, character, more content nowadays, Not sleeping today! Caring Home beautiful cake preparing – with firework! …

Late summer evening Obscured by clouds, almost: A white line of sky.

Monkey Biz By Paul McCann Who works for who , nobody knows and everybody’s passing the buck . Keep your eyes shut , thats how it goes. It fell of the...

A few words of commiseration and respect for all those who have ever lost a teapot.

If you're lazy (like me), this short poem may be for you.

darling my love double doubles every day adore you hundred times tomorrow till thrice eternity passes twice twelve triples ten times to forever i...

I'm dying to see you, my dears, We'll dance again around the maypole come next spring. We'll hold hands and sing on Mayday. I love you, don't ever...