I can’t look away. I can’t not see it. My mind won’t relax. I must tidy.
Not really much to say. It’s the weekend. A slow day. Not much going on.
In the war against time, our only ally is our slowly-faltering body. But in aiding the body, we can also aid the mind, building defences against both time, and our own lives.
I watch the quiet recharge, observing myself from a distance, even as I game. A weekend passes. I’m better for it.
The silent journey to work, a time shared with anonymous companions that I see each day I take this transit. I wonder if any of them recognise me, or even notice their fellow passengers?
A short story, a message to myself, found again by accident. Written a year ago. It is a message of hope, written in an uncertain time.
An adventure into a world on the edge of society, to a place where the usual rules don’t apply. A place of free conversation, where people can be true to themselves.
Sheltering at home from the storm, I think back to the night before.
The weekend begins with an unpleasant task, an overdue part of the regular chores.
Not a lot happened, today. But I’m going to tell you all about it, all the same.