Desire for surfaces and a smooth rearranging has taken over. This small illness of mine still has me exhausted by day's end. I lie here in my aching suit planning and replanning the dismemberment of things. I feel I have stepped into perspective and a small important freeing of dust but my cupboards and shelves tell stories of struggle and unwilling nomadic shifts. I am dreaming of a shedding dervish where I stumble at last into ordered clean spaces. This is my new revolution.
Comments
Creamboy, fixed now.