All about the gold

Some days the sky is leaden, unpromising. No sign of sunshine, weighted from the start. Resting my eyes on the soft greens of outside, creamy white blooms of sweet cicely nods gently, shouting delicate brilliance all the louder for the sullen backdrop. It pleases me to see them, i have found gold

My favourite people are those that can spin shit into gold, who turn a crappy hand into a winning combination of optimism and action. Admirable.

There is always gold to be found amid the mundane and everyday trials. Small wins, the sudden realisation than under all that weight of circumstance we are still shining, unbroken, perfectly imperfect. this is the triumph, the magic that turns base metal into untold riches. A medal in the dust.