Life here was teared back from the beatings and tortured was the soul yet there were days when hope Blazed through the minute ventilation space near the roof of this rocky cave and all that one could do was to pick a sharp stone and re-inscribe ‘My God will Give me Justice’ Read More →

Maybe is because we are seeking joy all in wrong places, in broken cisterns of our own creation. May be we are investing where moth, rust and thieves can access, or maybe we are a branch protesting for cessation or independence from the vine, maybe we have raptured our relationship or maybe we have signed up for competitions that are busy draining out cups.Read More →