Proclaiming the past as good old days, and present as foreboding future, weaves a frail fabric for the journey. Vilifying the now and glorifying what no longer lives, beckons the unbearable weight of existential bleakness.
Playwrights of personal dramas engage directors to mentor scripts of auspicious visions inviting audiences to a magical dance. But beware of sirens and demons from the past and emotional vampires in the present invested in robbing your joy.
Cultivate a weaver of excellence and worthy recipient of joy. Such is the way of the Drift…
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