The Passing of Time

the passing of time When I left my country I first went to Liverpool, met a woman and married. I tried my handwriting but the woman thought it was stupid, so I stopped writing opened up a café that was ok for some time. We were both working-class I had been a seaman and used my spare time reading world literature and had time to see and think, she was not so lucky, she had been an auxiliary nurse and had no interest in the movies or books. With time I come to dislike the English way the pub and occasionally a trip to Alton Towers (entertainment centre) too banal for my taste. I sold the café took the plane to Portugal it was like coming home, of course she hated it and it ended in divorce. For the first time in my life, I could write what I wanted without receiving ironic remarks. This is how I spend my time now that I’m old writing and reading give the pleasure I need little else matter I never liked throngs of people. My new wife never interferes with my writing Only says if I sit doing nothing around, go write something, of course with her being Congolese She speaks Portuguese and French but not Much English shall I call this a blessing?