I’m still a little sick, sweaty, shaky and weak, but I’m on my way back. I can still feel the spark within, waiting. Waiting for the moment to flare and bring me back home, back to my studio, back to my creative spirit, back to life. I’ve been gone for so long, lost my way. With a little help, I’ve been nudged onto the pathway back home. I may be ill and weak, but I can see the way ahead. It’ll be difficult as hell, especially on this road alone, But I feel at least now I may have a slim chance. A slim chance of getting back to where I am supposed to be, hopefully before my time is done here. Within that tiny spark, are dreams, only a few left, but still there. And that’s all I need to hang onto. Maybe it’s because I’m so drained and weak from this flu, or whatever, that I’m getting a little deep within myself. Who knows. And I now know who my real friends are, and who the shallow poser friends are. But now I have to rest again. I’ll be back.