The little flowers of yesterday
Have all forgotten May.
The last gold leaf
Has turned to brown.
The last bright day is grey.
The cold of winter comes apace
And you have gone away.
- Langston Hughes
Saturday, August 8th, 2020. 11:38pm Less than twenty minutes to get my words completed before midnight. I did this to myself. Again. But it was…
Sunday, August 2nd, 2020. 11:04pm Writing in the 'One Line a Day' notebook, I notice how the previous day is forgotten (blurred into the next) and…
dreamed of @neilhimself wandering up to me during a mysteriously dark house tour. Our conversation took to the street where it remained night. It…