Pins and Needles

It's 4:00 AM in New York, and the temperature is, not surprisingly, a December kind of subzero.

I wish I could fall asleep, but my mind is too busily trying to file away all the worries that have piled up on my desk.  I can barely stand the sound of my own voice right now - I need the quiet.

Right this moment, this world is too brutal a place for someone like me.

"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered." Tom Stoppard

There are times when someone else's words just fit you better than your own.