This morning was all blustery blizzards of winter. The joy of being a snowflake in
I would like to think that the best way to define my life is to say that I don't want to have to think about what all of my skin is doing. I press against the encroaching idea that this is not a definition at all.
I wish I could communicate the idea of, having heard him leave the house (to go for a walk!), and to go down the stairs and see a pile of discarded clothes by the door. Grey khakis, a pair of socks. This is the kind of shape that has to be felt.