7/28/24: Roof top sun set

I have a back log of empty pages.

Back log of unused words.

Find comfort in the departing day, that I can sleep now and not only work.

Remember playing Oregon trail on desktop, death was marked by a change in tune. It is louder in public.

I am sure we have passed some collective judgement on time, have cast similar stones into the water that accepts, takes, and disappears these things so quickly.

Death has become a new character in my life. It was not as present as it is now.

Bearded purple Irises accent the north east corner of the house just right. We found water damage in the crawl space, signs of rodents too.

No house becomes a home automatically. A place to sleep yes, a place to make a dirty kitchen, yes. A home involves weaving. An in-process quilt that is never actually done.

Do not break yet, keep spinning against the walls that seem more and more doomed as each year goes by.

A garden is a revolution. I recommend you begin collecting seeds right now.