Blog Posts

Cubed.

Bleary-eyed, I’m shuffling off to the kitchen, the belt of my fluffy gray bathrobe dragging on the ground behind me. I shudder to think of all the dust it’s collecting, but I lack the energy to tie it. Is

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Crimson.

Waiting for my car to be smog checked, I stoop to collect heart-shaped leaves from the sidewalk. I didn’t select this particular auto

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Digging.

Stabbing at the hardpan soil like the madwoman I surely am, tears stream down my cheeks as I endure another episode of “what-am-I-doing-with-my-life”

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