Who doesn’t take risks, doesn’t live.
I had a few days off from writing because - first of all - I like to have some time to mull over the thoughts I want to pass on to you. I love the time when my texts mature inside of me. When I observe, research, talk to people and put my thoughts into words. The second reason is much more down to earth: I have a never-ending problem with my dog. Hind-legs paralysis, bedsores and now… loose poop. My dog is trying to make up for the loss of muscles and I think because of that has overeaten a little. I’m a good dog mum so I didn’t protest - and now my existence mainly consists of washing off poop from the floor, the dog and myself. Several times a day. So you understand. By the way, I didn’t realise that poop makes you think about life this much. Comfort instead of risk My conclusions from observing my nearer and further surroundings are that people around me are nothing but cowards. They are not capable - beware, now I’ll use the oldest and most overused motivational...