Her dedication to miniaturizing her world showed in every minute detail. Even the microscopic strings of the guitars played in tune. She built a stage,
I did it! YEAH! Now, I have no clue and will seek out some “professional” help… ie: scream for help… getting things set up and
Im back at the funeral home again. Sigh…today its back to back services. A sad reminder that covid is REAL. These people would be alive
Welcome to my home, dear ones. there’s hot coffee, tea. Or if you’re into something cold, there’s milk, water, and tea, as well. there are
It was just the way she left it. I couldn’t find the strength to move a thing. It was like a shrine to her. So,
It was a marginal existence. Months on end of isolation. Being okay without humans. Weeks without a single word uttered. Voice crackled like shattered glass.