mnthomas

I love Christmas.  I should really say that I love the idea of Christmas.  I daydream about the perfect Christmas Eve.  The cottage is warm and cosy, the open fire crackling in the hearth.  Snow is gently falling outside, blanketing the rustic landscape and softening the sharp edges of the world.  The tree is finished, subtle fairy twinkling giving a soft ambience to the room.  A glass of ruby red wine, lambent with the firelight and my sweet man at my side.  All the presents are beautifully wrapped, all the cards hand delivered, all the work is done, effortlessly completed using my superior domestic skills.  I can rest assured that when our

As the hours pass, Still he knows not where he goes. The days end, the nights vanish, And yet he knows not where it goes. What does he look for? He knows not where he goes. What is it that he's after? He knows not where he goes. As time goes by, He knows not where he goes. That is what he wants: To know where his road leads.