THE MEMORIES are fading, like images floating through a mist, not just of Dodger but the life pre-break-up, a carousal of my favorite places; swimming, hiking, running, new restaurants, gallery openings, shopping, concerts, clubs, dancing in the street and our porch parties, but I cannot remember the state of grateful, emerging in the vortex of sensations, stimulation, surprise.
Do we ever return to that kind of forever spectrum, as if it will never end, and then it does, and we cannot go back. It’s not too late to feel grateful, fortunate, and lucky to have lived so many acts of my choice.
Santa Fe Wine & Chili Festival 2014. Dodger and our two new friends, we drank till midnight. The White Head Mother was something else! ;
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5Carolyn Gootgeld-Levine, Erika Marie Schwalbach and 3 others
The inner voice where gaps of expression are liberated. 
Wonderful memories, hold on to them!
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