where the writers are

April 17




Luck, transposed for gratitude, makes a mockery of grief and loss.  If you are lucky, what does that make me?  The forgotten?  The orphan of fate?  If what I lost and what it cost me is just a lack of fortune, then why do right?  What is sea level?  I may deserve all the sweetness in the world but what explains the pain?  I’ve heard that life’s not fair and laughed at the underestimation of the claim.  If pain is the touchstone of growth and you are lucky and I’m hurt, does that make you short?  And what is the point of growing tall?

  Blow kisses to stars which look familiar.

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Blow kisses to stars which

Blow kisses to stars which look familiar....lovely. Mp