"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
When all the mousies meet a very sad little tree who lost its head, they try to help him to find another one ...that's Grandma's last story...that's all HERE...a must before you go to bed, and you'll practise your French that way...