Rereading and editing my autobiographical story “Imitating Life.” It’s much better now. Like a different story. Will post soon. But it makes me think about a lot of things. Looking back at my life, all these stages. In some sense a repetition. A searching for something. In some sense I’m still that kid at the beginning of the story, listening to the other children, wondering how they happen to get along. How they do this thing. Life. No instructions. Would be nice. Life is inherently unfair. And yet. It’s all there is. Thank you. To whomever. Whatever. Even if just chance. Despite it all I am grateful for my little patch of dirt. What is unmathematically mine. A blink in the cosmic consciousness. But I still be. Still strive. To learn. To grow. Show me more. Not yet done.