a rolling stone gathers no moss

I'm sitting in front of my imaginary Mind-Map. Sorting thoughts, brooding about things, biking near the fields of my homeland, looking on Woody while he lolls about the grass. I enjoy watching him, keeping on brooding, smiling, gaping about the power inside him… Woodstock… My baby, my dog, my everything. Doesn’t matter what it will … Continue reading a rolling stone gathers no moss