I think I have to begin to write again. It is constancy in uncertain times, familiarity in estrangement, clarity in a rising tide of incoherence - the only way I feel some semblance of a grip on things. For, at the moment,I am unanchored, terribly unsure of how my life will unfurl, which way the winds will blow.

All I can do is knuckle down, settle in for the long haul, keep hope and seek some catharsis in the meanwhile. Which is really all my writing as ever been.

So here I am again.