Journal Entry: All Is Full Of Love

All is full of love, the bird, the worm, the sagas and eddas of nature, the song of fertile volcanic ash.

All is full of love, the wheat, the cow in the field, each and every grain of sand on a beach,

glinting in their millennia-long procession from star

to gas

to rock

to stone

to dirt to sand to inevitable pummelling from overwhelming heat then rebirthed from the phoenix star it came from in the same process repeated many billions of years ago.

All is full of love.

All is full of love as I sell alcohol across a counter coloured a vapid shade of red that usually disgusts me. There is no artwork in retail. But today I am content.

All is full of love.

Inspired by Björk.

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