Everybodys Got Their Own Situation And Their

If You Listen, You Can Hear It. The City, It Sings. If You Stand Quietly, At The Foot Of A Garden, In The Middle Of The Street, On The Roof Of A House. It's Clearest At Night, When The Sound Cuts More Sharply Across The Surface Of Things, When The Song Reaches Out To A Place Inside You. It's A Wordless Song, For The Most, But It's A Song All The Same, And Nobody Hearing It Could Doubt What It Sings. And The Song Sings The Loudest When You Pick Out Each Note.

Now That I've Had A Book Published, It Is Quite Validating, But A Bit Embarrassing.

It Takes A Lot Of Energy And Creativity To Make Such Screwed Up Lives Carry On. And The Kind Of Will People Have To Survive, Year After Year, Dealing With That Stuff, Is Weirdly Impressive.

Last Week I Was Just Someone Who Had Had A First Novel Published.

I'm Surprised, But I'm Glad, I Realise That This Is What I Wanted That Night Last Week, To Simply Make A Connection And Keep Hold Of It.