My legs are wooden

Sometimes you just don't feel like doing anything.
You just listen to the music of silence.
Stare at the cracks in the wall.
And you know there are things you must do.
Immediately.
But only thing you care about in that precious moment is to stay in this sweet surrender for as long as possible.
Because it's cold outside.
So instead of actually doing what I should do, I'm watching the black and white abbys of wannabe meaningful letters and sentences I call my blog.
And I think.
But I don't really know what am I thinking.
My mind is... disunited.



Robert Fulgham is a great person. You really should read some of his writing.
He is an ideal of living a great life with an immerse variety of experiences.
He was a cowboy, priest, singer, teacher and ultimately, for what he got most recognition, writer.
It is a miraculous thing, when someone has life interesting enough to share and also knows a way to express himself.