The art is what you can’t explain about why it made you feel the way it did.
Winter set in like an abscess, like an infection.
That jig-saw view of life taken apart, put back together.
It is this time, I think to myself on the couch, that I will want to keep with me forever.
The problem started with the awareness that the days were blurring together with little to set them apart.
And I just have to think, to consider the amount of loss I’ll feel when everyone is out of the house and it’s just me, positioning things exactly as they should be.