My lot.
Now I have added to my collections by collecting a little over a dozen photos of painted gorillas, delightful works of art that were, well, not tremendously inspiring. Just delightful, not much more. Not as good as the globe's, or the rabbits, or the lions, or even the benches. That's my lot.
Change, it's not in the air, it is not about at all. It feels like I am simply waiting for the disregard, waiting to be listened to and understood but will never be heard as I am not shouting the loudest. I think perhaps if I wandered off into the wilderness then there would be no one there not to listen to me. Which is worse, being lonely when alone or lonely when surrounded by family.
