I had a beer before lunch and after breakfast

It was bitter and fresh as it washed other flavors away

I had lost my job

Neither event was a surprise, neither were mine in the first place

It was bitter and bubbly and tickled my nose

Faux perfection? is a statement, a reality of avoidance travelling from past to present understanding.

Breathing goes unnoticed again, and then noticed and then unnoticed

Not a hard reset, just reset, fresh start, throw out the stale bread.

It’s not time that needs mending, nor hearts or egos. It’s a bridge that needs to be built. Courageously from scratch with some new materials and new designs.

Perhaps my bridge will only go one way. The other ones seem to be burned. A bit by me maybe.

Where should the courage come from?

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