...and what about women?

The first time a teacher inspired me to write. And write something which moves. Moves me.

Gives me the impression of swinging slightly on a vine on a grey monsoon day. Afternoon. With an empty house facing me.

Bringing me to this house. Home. Telling him about my brother getting married was hard.

More so cause I didn't know what to make of his "Oh."

This winter seems to have it's troughs. Dips.

I don't know how to deal with them. I try and I fall, overdoing and then holding back..never happy. Never true.

Aimless, wandering.

And then a form of liberation. Behen chod sutta.