Instead of this graveyard of drafts I’m accumulating, I can go and tend to them, nourish the garden of my hard work, and revive them into newness.
There is time between waves of excruciating pain where I’m relaxed, even peaceful, because the waves have just turned into trickles and it’s more manageable.
The end of summer is making sure I feel it.
There’s no better time than a lockdown to rediscover your love for an old cartoon you watched as a child.
Why keep ourselves so constricted to something as meaningless as a clock right now?