Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Sixty-One
Another cool, foggy morning. I hear him walk out the front door into the dark as I unroll the mat.
That limp.
Oh, yeah. I can always go for a walk.
Today’s Post-it notes:
“Fall in love with the impact.”
“Better is always the goal.”
“Ten-year visions.”
“What do I daydream about more than anything else?”
Bright poppies. I want to pull them up from the ground and stick them in a paper cup on my desk.
This feels like a trap.
All of a sudden I start to see the bathroom stall door open. Twice in two days. What is wrong with me?
Ouch.
Their advice is the same: Keep it to yourself.
I notice how I feel when I start thinking about the future of this thing. Follow the thread.