I'll tell you a secret.
Old storytellers never die.
They disappear into their own story.
I'll tell you a secret.
Old storytellers never die.
They disappear into their own story.
They say that as we age, we lose the fire.
It is not so.
The fire is always there. Its nature is always the same, whether it flickers or burns raging and steady.
It is the source of fuel that becomes unreliable.
Thoughts are slippery fish in a cold shallow stream.
If you are intent on capturing a worthwhile one, you need to stand very still, focus very hard on somewhere outside yourself, and then simply ignore it until it gets so close that it tickles your ankles.
Then, pounce.