Thursday, 2nd January 1997
Lovely, thanks. And yours?
Walk with me, and let us leave momentary footsteps in this crisp, fresh mantle of virgin time. Feel the leaves of an old year crunch under your feet, snapping the twigs of the past. See the denuded trees covered in whole new days, the lake frosted and iced with the promise of exciting beginnings; hear the rush of water somewhere underground from the river of forever. The wind is bright, bracing, brilliant, blowing iced cobwebs from yesterday's houses. Everything is cold and still, holding in its warmth: because everything is waiting to be born.
Happy New Year.
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