The serenity of a riverside pebble

For Elizabeth

I doubt myself every morning after I wake up and find I need another reason to get out of bed.
It was not always like this, but somewhere along the way, I lost my passion and limited myself
to simply staying alive. I have long since accepted that I am not going to be the sun, but now
I am slowly realising that even shining a reflected light in the depths of the night may be beyond
my reach. And I am actually fine with that. There is nothing wrong with being one of the pebbles
found on the river bank, as long as there is a warm hand to hold it.

The meaning of life, or why write a poem in your pyjamas on Saturday morning

I have always been a man of few words. Even back in the day, as a journalist,
I preferred news over reportage. First, you clearly state the event, its location,
and the time frame. After that comes the purpose, and only then is the reason.
In the end, it turns out that life boils down to these five fundamental questions:
what, where, when, what for, and why, in that exact order. And yet somehow,
we are so fixated on the last two.