An artist is actively dying...but living more fully than he could ever have imagined. A life of giving and purpose, infused with his art and deep gratitude.
...Aloud". Relative latecomer, perfect and tiny; seeping into my senses in my imperfect and tiny Mini arriving at the tennis club during the summer of 1986, just before calm convention came fat, content and unexpectedly into view on the horizon, arrived and stayed.
Grown ever deeper roots down the years. Wistful rather than yearning. Moment(s) in time. Ultimate line is the ultimate line, and, IIBYW, I'm living it a little more - if not outwardly every day yet as I should - then steadily and a little more nonetheless, for which I'm grateful...
