Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Forty-One
4:45 a.m.
That whirring sound. Must be vineyard fans blowing. It’s that time of year again.
The day feels so spacious with only one drop off and all the sun spilling into the room.
The day is full of sidequests.
The usual. Chicken Tikka Masala — mild.
It does feel way longer than a year.
A squirrel sitting on its hind legs, nibbling on something, while staring out at the street.
Do fewer things.
What’s in a name?
Is it true?
