Of mangoes and good intentions

There is nothing to write. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. (Ernest Hemingway)

A friend of mine, in order to save herself from appearing flustered by events unrevealing themselves in the course of a day, always says that we are an ungrateful nation! Her face twitches as she says it but I assume she is trying very hard not to appear angry or frustrated at the happenings or the misshapenness of the day. She also owns a copy of fourteen thousand things to be happy about, but I have my reservations on the fact that she has ever read it. She has given me a copy of it too. I have read it in bits and pieces because fourteen thousand things happily counted and I might have to turn into a saint, and I am quite happy with trying to be human at this moment.