I am curious about what matters and why. The older I get (about to be 82, stepping into my 83rd year) the less I care about things. I am not dissatisfied, but am quite plesantly at peace with practically everything. That doesn’t mean I like things as they are, but that I realize that my influence on the way things are is quite negliable and being dissatisfied with things I can’t change is a waste of time, time I prefer to spend writing these snippets to practically no audience whatsoever. I write to write. To articulate my thoughts in a way that says what I want to say. And my life is as full and as enjoyable as I need life to be.