Plus if I relied on venting to a therapist I would then have to hold everything in until the next appointment which would not be good for my mental health.
By the wine-press house, the road turns offto the right, I see low village roofs through the mountains, on roads burnished blue,I’m a stranger here, for I intrude no one in sight, only acacias, vineyardssand-built houses beneath antennas between wine cellars,