Sometimes I think things. Sometimes I don't, but sometimes I do.
Sometimes I write the things I think. Sometimes this works out, sometimes it doesn't.
Sometimes I'll post the things I've written on this page. Sometimes they're finished, sometimes they aren't.
The afternoon came down as imperceptibly as age comes to a happy man. A little gold entered into the sunlight. The bay became bluer and dimpled with shore-wind ripples. Those lonely fishermen who believe that the fish bite at high tide left their rocks, and their places were taken by others, who were convinced that the fish bite at low tide.
