listening to this damned faucet drip. sitting here wrapped in blankets half-past 6 on an ice cold, dark chicago morning. lying in bed wouldn't do. lately, i'm awake all the time anyway, the weight of duty pressing on me. it gets light so quickly, i see, once you start moving. already, my used-to-be white curtains [...]
Sometimes I drink too much.
Nonfiction Woman 