So sadly defined by work, cut out like a bowl.
We are living this life where everyone we encounter is just a version of ourselves, the same as in dreams. How long have we been imagining shapes in the clouds? Or telling stories?
I went down into the quarry and my calves burned coming out.
Mondays are best for jazz.
An odd day I didn’t get out until the end of it. Got up early and went to bed early. Both times with the birds coming on. That building arc in the morning you can’t not-hear once it starts, but… Read More ›
All night long the pitter-patter of rain like microwave popcorn popping in a bag.