The first thing I do is write. Pray? There are ways to God only the foolish understand.
Turn on the lights. A black cat crossed the yard while I stood in the road admiringly. Visitor bane.
A lovely star is more likely a planet. The horses stamped and coughed, driving off a bear. Snapping turtles have tails, I know that now.
If you're reading, then write. Too much coffee, not enough protein. Identity shadows the ego standard.
Arrogant unlike Parisian soulfulness. Certain teachers I miss, others I just emulate. These sentences, not twenty others.
I insists. Deletions and mark-throughs and notes on the margin. Other branches, other tombs.
A way forward? Interior peace.