It's time to spread our wings and fly. Don't let another day go. Love, it'll be just like starting over.
Don't underestimate the power of the typewriter.
Don't neglect the chance to play with the numerous forms of metal, wood, fiberglass... as static as they appear, they also move minds and hearts.
Dear seasons and sunlight, seasons and shadows,Play with the windfall, dancing trees
The chatty bamboo, spring shrubs
It is fun to enter a painting's third dimension. Bamboo in dappled light. Licks of cool breeze. Old technology at my fingertips, connecting to time in unsteady letters. The breeze shimmers in the trees. The light sparkles in the air; I am grateful to be a part of it.
Through layers of healing, peeling away at every facet of my soul, I am struck anew by simple trust. All my dreams are in the sea. The bridesmaids keep them safe. One day I shall uncover the hem to find they hay has turned to pearls.
Today is a great day. This is very hard to type on. The ink runs low, like my patience. Why does Carolyn put her hair up and down twenty times a day?
Today is a perfect day. Visiting from Savannah. Enjoying this beautiful day with the spirit of our son.
Beautiful setting on a beautiful day. The flower is always in the almond. Everything has beauty; not everyone sees it.
The joy of being delusional is that you are always the last to know.
It is beautiful here. I have truly found paradise.
Art is the center of my soul
The hidden wonder of New Jersey
Covfefe
Bob Glauber used to write his stories on a typewriter like this
Play is the heart of a child. Art is the heart of an adult.