Playing. Loyal friends. Feathers. bugs. Moist treats. Avacados. Yogurt. The sun. My new cat brush that makes me purr everytime I see it. And, my new friend Chloe Jones.
yay!
birds singing, water trickeling - i love that!!
He has his own tragic share of tensions between reason and instinct, emotion and logic, tradition and irreverence so charcteristic of his time, that were to foreshadow the breakdown of Europe's civilization. He wants to be an artist, a prophet or saint, and a teacher, but he is again and again fascinated by exalted visions and images that defy systematic presentation. His thinking is the product of emotional sensation which gives his entire work a chaotic as well as artistic note. Any noble thought rising in him is immediately attacked by rebellious, brilliant, or cynical counter arguments and suspicion. He knows he can never find his true self; it must remain elusive, tragically hidden. But instead if regretting this condition, he praises error as a basic element of life, to be accepted heroically. Everybody and everything must grow in opposition to resistance, contradiction, darkness, and death.
The cat next door who scares me and my Dad. He takes good care of me and we play all the time. kevin!