A river

From Артемия Лебедева

With electricity rationed to only portions of the city of an evening, at around 9pm I used to go out and lay on the concrete outside the hotel, counting the satellites that skirted across the deep dark sky.
From my little London window, in my little London living space, I can't see any satellites. I can't even see any stars. Because I live in a corner of this planet that affords it's inhabitans and myself freedoms and wealth alike. We're all quite fortunate to live in places like this. Even if we can't always see the stars.

I am quite aware how contrived this can sound in blog-dom, but honestly, who gives a fig?
I have been swept up and pushed under, a mighty rushing river of grace and life has caught a full hold of me. I can't remember the last time I slept without either a pillow under - or a roof over - my head.
God, I think you're brilliant.