Ten.Two Thousand, One Hundred & Eighty-Eight
Don’t want to get up.
The cancer cup.
We’re in a twist and I look up at the ceiling and almost smile at the cobwebs being gone. And then I laugh at myself for being happy about such a thing.
I think I was snoring.
So. much. cardboard.
Today, the lighting is better, even though it is still odd. And I feel more creative, more connected than I have in the past. I feel more excited about having my camera in my hand. I miss this feeling - the feeling of being interested and engaged and, maybe a little inspired.
Sometimes, I come here even though there is no book I intend to check out. I just stroll through the racks, tilt my head, read the spines, pluck books from the shelf, and flip through the pages.
Party planning.
But I think he understands, even though he doesn’t like my answer.
So much to do.
