My home is a place where the wind don’t blow. My heart rests in the place where the wind don’t blow. Strange place a home, strange place where gentleness calms the wind, its a point on a bleak horizon. How can my home be this way – most priceless- yet most defenceless – most valuable -yet most valueless – most welcoming- -yet most forbidding. Tread softly – the walls breathe peace, deep, dark peace, and where the wind don’t blow.
Paul Allen PR and I faced each other in Court on Tuesday December 16 2014. Here is the report on the outcome.
“For the last couple of years I have been in a tumble dry cycle – hurled around, hitting against the sides of drum, erratically lacerated, mangled, being knocked and jolted about some more, not knowing how bloody long the cycle would continue for or where the next blow would come from. Then suddenly, intermittently, the cycle stops. I violently jolt to a screaming halt…………. I am knocked senseless by it; the trauma is so great, it’s unrelenting.