So here I am at 40, deeply satisfied and lucky beyond all my hopes at 20. Yet, filled with the chaos of the rush, the noise, the unknowns, the not-quite-there-yet... are-we's? of life.My days cannot be put into tight little packages, analysed, measured, remembered. Or can they?
I am embarking on a project. One year. Fifty two weeks. Haiku 52. Want to come along?
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