Ida Lawrence, Contributor
Waking Times
Watching as the season changes, looking back at the stages of life, dreaming of an unborn ‘unharmed’ generation, standing still as the falling world speeds by, inhaling the light and exhaling all else. What am I trying to get to? Clarity.
We’re into another autumn in the northern climes… and the operative word is ‘another’. Did the season change too soon? Other people have written about time and the speed of it, so maybe, collectively, we’re in that space… conscious of the chaotic events whirling around us while we don’t seem to be moving.
