The Silver Trumpet Brayed

So many views of the black side of things today, so many failings and all of them summoning old spirits. Christmas gone already and offering only those trifles it has offered for so many years, those gaudy baubles and twinkling lights which do not warm and do not lighten our darkness.

Actors - two I met this week. Both delightful in their own way, both a joy. But could they recognise another?

Once again the faceless ones have conspired to bring me down. Must I really go on so much longer because of them? Can I go on? With every break it grows harder and harder to go back. And always the fear that by the time I am set free I will have lost so much as to be unable to take the prize.

posted by Weasel @ 11:11 PM