It is a reflective time of year, I suppose. Been dwelling upon the past, which, of course, can only go on so long before bleeding in with toxicity. I manage to manage it well enough.
Sunday Evening Post: 3.6.22
The last thing I’d typed out was an obituary. The next thing, after this, will be a eulogy. So it goes.
Sunday Evening Post: 8.2.20
I feel some returning elasticity to my mind, these days. A continuing conflict, for sure, but a battle that must be thought.