lol, time races past, life races around us, and then we get sucked into the pace of life, never able to return, or are we? i think of Frosts poetry, "Stopping by woods on a snowy evening" Whose woods these r i think i know, his house is in the village though, he will not see me stopping here to watch his woods fill up with snow. the woods are lovely dark and deep. But i have promises to keep, and miles to go before i sleep and miles to go before i sleep!!! a brilliant poem on slowing down to smell the roses, or watch the snow fall in this case...