awoke this morning to a repeated roar of a squirrel. it might have been the black buddy who came by my window the other day to rub his glands against the glass and then to place three tiny soft nut-like objects onto my window sill.
life has reduced itself to very thin minutes of precious time above the surface of a gigantic piece of work. the rest is spent submerged, adjusting little knots of a carpet on the bottom of each newly discovered day, beyond what looked like the very edge of my horizon.
and it is great that the field of vision has been expanding, and i am learning a lot. each day.
so i guess i am not complaining. i feel quite blessed every time i open a water faucet or cross the street without being submerged in toxic soup.
hmm... toxic soup.
the projections of little objects in the windows moved dangerously quickly across the kitchen wall. time is running out of this brief morning as well. i should get up and ready and into the city, i guess.
the squirrel stopped roaring though there he is, jumping from branch to branch.
maybe one day we'll get a picture together. somewhere on the edge of some photograph. and we will look like freshly grown grass.
