Market Day, a Saturday alone. I've made a mistake. I tried to be safe, stayed away from crowds, and cooked my own food in order to avoid catching a cold. I caught the cold anyway. There is no being careful in life. I've tried never to understand what people mean when they say, "Take care." How? I've always wondered. I tried it and it was useless. There is something at work that we cannot understand. Being happy is the only defense.
I'm reading Tiziano Terzani's A Fortune-Teller Told Me.
"[A]t fifty-five one has a strong urge to give one's life a touch of poetry, to take a fresh look at the world, reread the classics, rediscover that the sun rises, that there is a moon in the sky and that there is more to time than the clock's tick can tell us."
Today I will wander, look, breath. Perhaps I will saunter into some mystery.
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