You know how little children run after bubbles?
Sometimes I feel a little like that, running after feelings, everything going on inside.
Sometimes they astonish me.
A bubble that once was, no longer.
You see it again, around the corner.
Then, plop, it’s gone.
Or plop, the strength of the emotion spills out! From weightless to a forceful wave, gushing over.
You look around in wide-eyed wonder – where do bubbles come from? What made them? What’s inside?
A helpless, bemused juggler.