1 The old stories

when I was young there were stories, told by candle light of worlds; of horror and dismay of war and at the same time love and hope resilience.

I remember my mother siting at the foot of my bed telling me stories of brave gods and coragious heros standing tall and victorious over villains with tragic back stories or no motives just cruel and cunning for the sake of it yet always defeated by the amazing underfeatable hero.

Perhaps, unfavorably for the heros of stories thats not true in the modern day as life is not black not white and certainly not grey,it is in my firm belief that life is a rainbow a cocktail of emotions high and low. A stormy day,only seeing the future through the rainbow of life.

walking blindly, thats the human condition checking behind you fearing the dark and always knowing you will die yet still smile because

fuck it in allowed to be happy.