The embarassed silence sits across from me at the kitchen table.

I long for that forgotten moment. A memory with amnesia.


It's obvious, I think about those kids. It depresses me.

Home is where the heart is.


If you could choose, would you take one hour you have everything could dream, or just okey for your whole life?


The first alternative is like never before used fireplace, the second like a rose garden with dead roses.