The day is a hallway I am
walking through.
Every moment seems continuous and without pause.
Soundtrack: Alice Coltrane, Translinear Light.
My quick temper flattens.
Hours left but I am restless at home, unable to fix my mind on any task, so I walk into town.
It is cold for August, thank god.
Practicalities drift across my mind: steel wool, a new calendar, psyllium husks.
The days will get shorter.
I’m invited to go along to a social gathering but I don’t know if I can spend time among others though I really want to go. How small and tender the ego is.
Someone is downstairs in the kitchen cooking dinner for me.
It is nice to eat at the end of the day, but even nicer to be taken care of.