In old age we are like a batch of letters that someone has sent. We are no longer in the passing; we have arrived.
Knut Hamsun, Norwegian novelist, Nobel Prize for Literature, 1920
There are already a lot of crossed out bits - and places where the ink ran in the tears I dropped on the page whilst the writing was going on ... but ... there is a lot of beauty in those pages, and I think when I have arrived, it will have been a batch of letters worth sending. Flesh made Word ... I hope.