Turn turn turn

Like the leaves, my burns have dried from mauve to brown. Work inches forward. Stress and anxiety creep to a rolling boil.

I can't wait until the holidays. Until snow. I want to be blanketed in the soft powder of Lethe.

I long for a simpler carefree life. I reach back into memory and I can only bring back episodic glimpses. Standing in the middle of a wheat field surrounded by an enormous sky. Walking over the Brooklyn Bridge, canopied by scarlet clouds. Sitting in church with my parents, reading Nietzsche. Building a fort out of doors.

Huh, I feel much better now. Contrast is the key. Thank you blog.