The dark side of the moon is where I live, there's no shortage of craters to call home. The roads are non-existent and the postcode is unknown.
A fly on the wall, I see the parents with children, the children with parents, the lovers in the throes of their consuming passion, and I celebrate them all.
I choose to be happy for the ones who are and the hell with it all.
And, meanwhile, I read my favourite cello player, the best of them all...
In our twin and separate craters, I watch the sadness bloom in equal wonder, awe and admiration. But there's no rose without thorns. I'd pay the price with blood, gladly.
Always.
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