The power went off this morning. Halfway through reading many of the blogs I’ve become accustomed to reading, and enjoying, the screen went ‘blimp’ and there was a surge of mechanical silence thought the house. Sitting still for a moment , the cold air of outside gliding past cheeks. It’s always cracked open, the window. No matter what the season, outside breath is always aloud to enter the room.
A layer of glazes added to some studies.
A trip to the local vegetable store.
“Why have you got a lightbulb on your finger ?”
“It’s my ideas finger”, she said holding her middle finger towards the thin air beside, polite like
“Do you write in cursive?”
“No, mostly cap locks”
“Can you write ‘this is a list on the back of my list’ – would you write that in cap locks or?”
“No, because it’s a sentence”
“I like your writing”