Ten.One Thousand, Eight Hundred & Forty-One
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I broke the streak on accident.
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Maybe it wasn’t an accident. Maybe it was just what needed to happen on account of everything that was always happening - has been happening - continues to happen.
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I wonder if the specialness of what was accomplished is now moot.
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Do I start over again from one?
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No. I just keep plugging along.
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It is hot. So very hot. This kind of heat makes you ask yourself all kinds of questions.
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This kind of heat is revelatory.
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I rearrange the flowers at the dining room table while he cooks. I tell him about this problem of no poker face. “I just know I looked irritated. And I was.”
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I set the empty vases outside to dry.
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It’s okay to begin again.
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I just really miss creating.