I went out this morning to look at the world, have some breakfast and watch the water for a moment or two. Cold and bright, an ice-blue sky, hard sharp-edged buildings with perfect outlines. Sunlight-speckled waves.
I wish I lived somewhere snowy.
I've been getting the "You've lost so much weight!" remarks the last week or so. It's nice, but I wish they wouldn't. I think it warns my brain that something good might be about to happen, and it naturally veers toward doom and disaster again. The more static I am, the less I move each day, the easier it becomes to continue the slide.
How do we get that way, where we seek ruin and shun good fortune?
At a crucial point, age eight or nine, do we decide that loss and isolation are safer?
Tomorrow morning, first thing, supermarket. If I walk along the foreshore, I know the day will go well no matter what else happens. Mornings are important.
1 comments:
You're right...mornings are important. Keep going friend(I can't call you Creature...because it gives me a picture of a monster and I know your not).
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