There’s a big storm coming. The center cannot hold. Those things on the periphery are starting to break loose and fly. The winds. The winds are supposed to maintain at forty miles per hour, rise to sixty from time to time. Tomorrow night. That’s when it’s supposed to begin, technically.
I don’t want to talk about anything and I don’t want advice or support. Sometimes it’s just about letting the winds blow and the rains wash over me. Sometimes it’s just about letting go.
1 comment:
I think both this one and the one above Garnish, would make a good beginning to a book or chapter of a book. :)
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