If Life Isn't a Cabaret, Something's Wrong

It’s hot. It’s a Sunday and I’m sitting in a friend’s beautiful garden, sipping tea, and looking out onto a spread of summery fruit and toast.   

Summer’s pretty much passed me by. I’ve literally just returned from a small festival I performed at, and am still covered in glitter and camping dirt. I trust that over the smell of the foxes my friend is accomodating out here, any smell of my own will be covered up. 
Life’s pretty much passed me by. I’m enjoying this moment. I don’t want it to pass. I don’t want to continue down the direction I’ve been heading. Over the last year I’ve been so busy, carrying way too much on my shoulders,  that I didn’t dare rest and enjoy life even for a moment. Time to put something down. 

Yesterday I woke up, my head full of crazy ideas, and I knew they’re the answer to my problems. 
I tell me friend about them. I rejoice in the fact that she can see that one person’s madness is another person’s sanity. I’m grateful for the sunshine, I’m grateful for the cherries, I’m grateful for the encouragement. 

Reluctantly I leave, drive home, wash away the stale remnants of the weekend, then head off to do some recording. But those crazy ideas won’t go away. They mean business. They’ve won me over. I know I won’t be able to resist. 

Time to start a new chapter. Time to let go off things. Time to choose freedom. The choice is mine. While this means I have to so something that scares me a little - it means my life might be more of a cabaret again. And seriously, if it isn’t - what’s the point?

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