A hundred sorrows under a single snail:
wind and waves, poles of the line of vision,
birds sunk in the mist, and the mountains with
All the color of the south, still cold next to the skin.
Getting past this place, this autum of the heart,
one starts to know what hard traveling means.
The eveningsun lingers a moment on the sandbar.
I turn my head with one long sigh.
Today is the day our Mother was born, Nov 21st 1906.
This day in 1783 the first hot air balloon flys over Paris
In 1859 this week Orgins of the Species was published, and in 1963 JFK was heading to Dallas. In 1980 350 million tuned in to Dallas to seewho shot JR.
Goldie Hawn born today, Voltaire, and Bjork