Sunday Evening Post: 1.8.23

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.