It’s a wish to go slow and continue writing peacefully about small, small things of life till a ripe old age. God, please don’t rock and toss my boat with sudden throws and challenges. I’m more like a dove. I don’t want to go too fast and too far. I just want to move slowly with a smile. The miles covered don’t matter. I just wish to be there like a sagely old tree with crooked, hollow trunk and still waiting for another spring for some more shoots and tender leaves on the hardened, dry branches. A little place of rest and repose for some old birds at least, if not the young ones.
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