You are a survivor, a little battered, a little bruised, wind tattered from the storm. A little glue, some duck tape, sticks and string holding you together. Not the same, changed for the worse or changed for the better, still not sure. Stronger, but ever so much more cautious. Those stealing glances, unseemingly quick looks, what is hid, what is shared? Observing and being observed. Wanting anonymity but yearning to be discovered. This is my blog.