There are moments, brief, precious, rare moments, when the thunderous roar of anxiety, and obsessive compulsion, and the abuse of substances quietens, and he and I find common ground. I lean into those moments, for the ten or twenty minutes they last, catching the briefest glimpse of him underneath the sedimentary layers of trauma laid down over seven decades.
Me in place
Musings on place, home and memory
Me in place 
Rare. Wow! But you devoid us of the pic!
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this WordPress is extraordinarily tedious. I cannot access 23 without using the link provided
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I got in by invoking an account I did not even remember having and now I subscribed to your account I can navigate it.
However it is necessary to log in anytime I want to comment
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I think that’s a quirk of WordPress. I have to log in when I want to comment on other accounts.
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