We don’t have a Christmas tree.

In my house I have a serries of wreaths. One looks like it might have been pinched from a department store, almost vulgar in it’s mammoth scale.

I love a a real tree. I choose not to have one any more for several reasons. Space. Cost. Disposal. Guilt of killikg a tree for 2 weeks decore.  Disliking pine needles in my feet in through till March.

Wreaths in their infinate circular form represent the end of one thing and the beginning of another. Some thing about seasons or the circle of life. We made it through a year.hurrah.

Nothing feels mid winter this year. It’s unseasonably warm and the inevitable end of the world feels a little closer. Are we going the way of the dinosaurs?

We might be. So fuck it. I’m going to make as many mistakes as takes to be happy, (that’s not as selfish as it sounds). Making them means making choices. Making choices means having an opinion. Having an opinion and using it to make choices is the bold new way I live. It requires confidence and authenticity.

Getting there.

No fucks given.









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