This is hard to write about. Part of tilling soul soil is being willing to admit things. And while I can admit this to myself [sometimes] and those around me, I’ve had problems admitting some of this to other people.
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I looked down in the land of my grief and there it was - something I’d never seen before. It was earth in my hands. I didn’t know where it came from. I looked out across the horizon of my life, my circumstances, my contexts and the con in my texts, and I saw desolation.
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Flinking is not in the dictionary. Okay, it’s not in a normal dictionary. It is however, in the Urban Dictionary and is apparently a reference for floating in water while drinking.
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