Chris Statham

52 Weeks in 1 Year Chris Statham

12 months - arbitrary parcels of time that split the enormity of a year into navigable chunks. I'm only older by a week... but hopefully a lot wiser. Last week, my best mate died and I found salvation in Grace, a stripper at my local pub. We're at Heathrow Airport and about to fly to Tanzania, this being where my blindfolded finger of destiny landed in an atlas. I'm diving into the deep end and will roll with the flow... plus other puns. What my fu-ture holds, only my atheist ass can guess, but it must be better than as a human chatbot. With Grace by my side, my love of 24 hours, I have confidence that anything is possible even if at times I'm sure to feel like a hippopotamus on a trampoline attempting to solve the Rubik's Cube of life. As I pass through the next 52 weeks, I'll once again give it to you like it is through prose, poems and pictures. This is going to be one year in my life. I expect it will be mainly bad, unquestionably, predominately ugly but hopefully, there will be a little good.