However, I remain a humble person.

What would you do if you had a million dollars.

Can you see the real man?

I can’t buy your love, hers, or hers, so what is it I’m really paying for, what is it that I wish to take. Dollars, Words, Me… Can’t Buy Me Love; I need so very little and now I want so much and in the end, as always you will give me nothing.

I’m usually falling not flying and I don’t think I’m flying now; more like building a bridge towards the sky. High Off Life… existing is withdrawal, suicide is cold turkey, but I guess I want a new drug; something to convince me to stay… so much higher.

30 of 50 haiku poems written on Friday, July 1, 2011 to document the day my husband had surgery. Each haiku deals with something that was around me that day from the time I left that morning until we were home and finally went to sleep.

The story of a woman who lost it all.

Why is it that writing for Triond keeps me up at night? I keep tossing and turning until I come up with the perfect story to write.

What makes the man and his hand can hardly be repaired. A pensioner in Timisoara is given the hour of death after he threw a bag with $ 10,000 in the trash.

The following lines were scribbled on paper napkins in places, such as restaurants: