When I tire of spinning my wheels, what better remedy than to spin some of yours. Out of my tower, away I go to see the world! Or my little nook of it. Fresh air and sunshine and all that, or by night and its light. From here to there, going around, cutting through, zigging and zagging, and back another way. There is nature and man, composing the world, or mashing it up, a symphony of cacophony for the senses. And before I stop, my wheels are in motion again. I (heart) your product.
No comments:
Post a Comment