Disconnect

Sometimes there is a total disconnect between what you want to accomplish in a day, or in an email, or in a post (your intent) and what ultimately appears to happen (your inept end-product). Perhaps on those days it’s best to make your way to that part of Owen Woods where charred fallen logs are still smoking after a burning of deadwood. Then, on returning, you can play an endless number of Chopin’s Nocturnes (try Nocturne No.2 or No.1 for a real Polish-style melancholy spin into the land of moroseness). And then? I’m still working on the “then.”