A new year generates reflection on all that has transpired in the previous one.

Our rights. Our wrongs. Expectations met while others sat idle.

Sometimes I feel writing in such a way is nothing more than fool’s words strung together to sound more than they are–as if they have some sort of currency.

Such is an artists plight–playing with Monopoly money while dreaming of a world that is nothing more than that.

Merrily, merrily, merrily…

Be it as it may, it is a wonderful life. Don’t let them tell you otherwise. It’s the only one you got.