It's been an extraordinary week. Full of nasty revelations, very intense stuff. The more I think I understand, the more I don't. Not that it changes anything. Taking a passive stance never does, though you do inevitably engage in woebegone mindgames (with yourself, of course) every once in a while.
But I have learned something - I now know why my dad used to buy hope every weekend. Nothing like the quadrangle of shared or common experience to bring people together, I suppose.
And there's also nothing like the former, to keep them apart.
Sprinkles of gold, I imagine, and voila, they become.