As I was looking through my drafts folder, looking for a little piece I started a few months ago, I came across this little fragment:

It looks as if the wind had had great fun whisking the pink layer of clouds across the bright blue sky. The sun is setting now and the colors are turning more dramatic by the minute. Soon the now colorful clouds will be just dark shadows, empty areas in the carpet of stars. The last boats are crossing the bay. Their s are on. Their engines seem louder than usual. Large passenger ships seem to be pasted on the edge of the horizon. I can see three now. All of them are facing south. One by one there are little s visible in the windows of the buildings around the bay. Each one of the s turned on by someone who thought that it was time. The s here are off still, but it is time. It is time. I will turn on the in a few seconds. And then for others around the bay this place will turn into a tiny man made star on the façade of a building. Good Evening Sunny Isles.

I am not really good at relaxing. Relaxing makes me nervous. And I can not relax unless I stop relaxing and do something, even if the ?something? is some sort of relaxation. (11/30/02/6pm)