the mudpond

It's good to let things breathe in your imagination because often your initial response to it is not the best thought-through response. I savour little glimpses of life. Mine and those of people who turn me sideways and around. Friend or stranger. Even a child. (the world looks different from down there) Sometimes an author, photographer, artist. I let things saturate and incubate here. Hopefully, deeper meanings can percolate up and flower.

Location: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

A stray cat.


Papa at Christ's door

Friday morning: Suffering from blood poisoning , but fully conscious and extraordinarily serene.

Friday night: Suffering from kidney failure and shortness of breath, but still fully conscious.

On this Easter Saturday in the
Year of the Eucharist,
Our Holy Father,
Supreme Pontiff,
Vicar of Christ,
Bishop of Rome,
Shepherd of over a billion sheep,
halts at the threshold of death.

Our beloved Papa has received the sacramental
food for the journey.

He is
at Christ's door.

Sacred Heart of Jesus,
once in agony,
have mercy
on our dying Papa.

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