“Let us go to the shore; there the waves will kiss our feet. With mysterious sadness the stars will shine down on us.” Aleksey Pleshcheyev (1825-1893)

Grief is strange, it comes at you from all angles.

Every choice is the death of all other possibilities.

When does the path we walk on lock around our feet? When does the road become a river with only one destination? Death waits for us all in Samara. But can Samara be avoided?

Everything around us, this day to day existence, stops us from being who we really are.

Just when I think I’m winning When I’ve broken every door The ghosts of my life blow wilder than before Just when I thought I could not be stopped When my chance came to be king The ghosts of my life blew wilder than the wind. David Sylvian – ‘Ghosts’