A Mermaid Mining Words from the Wet Mountains
The blog of a french storyteller, a polish photography lover and a world adventurer, Christina Czubak.
Reports from my somewhat unusual life
An American student researcher explores the beauty of Sub-saharan African terrain
Watercolour and mixed media art
Global issues, travel, photography & fashion. Drifting across the globe; the world is my oyster, my oyster through a lens.
A Library of Literary Interestingness
Family, Politics and Poetry
"We did not weave the web of life, we are merely strands in it. Whatever we do to the web we do to ourselves.” ― Chief Seattle. Awestruck Wanderer is written and edited by Eduardo Carli de Moraes, journalist, philosopher and musician. Write to me: firstname.lastname@example.org. Cheers, fellow earthlings!
"We're all out there, somewhere, waiting to happen."
Where observation and imagination meet nature in poetry.
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Thanks for the mention.
Bantaba X is still going strong. We have a new female drummer, and she is fantastic. We are spending “time” writing new material at the moment.
Sadly, my blogging days took a tumble when my wife and I decided to set up our business and MOMO’s time eaters got to us…
How is life treating you?
Life at the moment reminds me of “some” of Pink Floyd’s lyrois from “Time”:
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
Fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way, but you’re older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death
Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought I’d something more to say
Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
When I come home cold and tired
It’s good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away, across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spell
Definitely one of my favorite Pink Floyd tunes… I’m doing really well. Can’t believe it’s been a year since I posted on my blog. Gonna have to change that! Really good to hear from you, Phil. Nice to hear that things are good (and busy) for you! Peace.