3:22am.

I just don’t feel like myself.

Not enough time. There is never enough time.

What is that smell? Oh. Cow manure.

That feeling of anxiety again. Like a hollow feeling plus a pounding heart.

I can see it in his face. He doesn’t want to go back. He thinks he would rather be back in New Orleans or with his friends in Chicago.

I don’t really need any more signs though this is definitely another one. I’m going to have to do the work. But I don’t want to.

“…I am more satisfied with the exploration of the best, most simple and elegant question than I am with any righteous, vocational answer.”

It feels good to be back? Yes. It feels good to be back.

So much to do.