I wrote something really raw and good. It took me all day. And now I am going to let a bunch of strangers pass it around and judge me.
Sat on kitchen counters and discussed woodworking and Einstein and Picasso and school.
Quietly on the sofa. Family was out celebrating.
Listening to some old favorites.
Waiting to be understood.
Dog.
Satisfied that I would not be understood just now, went to bed considering whether or not philosophy is dead. One of my heroes says yes. And what have the Romans ever done for us?
Quietly in bed.
Today started out nice, has been quiet as well, but in a strained way. I distrust it.
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