Even the finest wine turns to vinegar in time.

It's been a good long while since last I wrote. Life here's been a pretty consistent uphill struggle for me with intermittent breaks of glory. It's been difficult to face this empty text box knowing that I don't have much to report aside from the daily grind. Seems like sometimes even the best parts of life here are somehow tainted or become stained with tears. I'm holding out for more-- for something better. Alas, Spring comes and the sunshine flows down the panes and spreads across the lawn like a picnic blanket. I hasten to bathe myself and allow the sun to warm me and unfold my shriveled body, opening like the blossoms on the trees standing tall around me. I've discovered a new kind of poverty and, therefore, a new kind of wealth. Though it feels at times that I could be blown down by the slightest of breezes, I'm still holding on. By the tiniest hairs of root I will cling and anchor myself once again.