Solitude by Bob Martin | May 26, 2007 | Art, Artist, Culture, Poem | 0 comments Constant rush of noise, images and smells. Where do I start, where do I end. Fear is the realization of dependence. If I reach out to touch there would be more to comprehend. Where do I start, where will it end. bmartin/07 Twitter Share this: Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window) Tumblr Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook More Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Like this:Like Loading... Related Leave a ReplyCancel reply This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.