Remembering Virginia Woolf, I made myself a private spot on our balcony. Lovely in good weather with a pleasant view of a deeply troubled world.
Maybe it’s too close.
Birds chirping over a manicured zen garden, each person walking through a tight amalgam of social rage and a disease vector.
Balance takes on a new meaning when perched on a branch. Flight is tricky too, given the maelstrom.
Anne L'Ecuyer 