Turns out, I fell off the face of the Earth. So many things to do. So many important things. So many tedious things. So many infuriating things. So many lovely things. So many damn things, because I'm so addicted to being busy.
But somehow, I found solace in orange salt. I found it in pasta. I found it in Symone. I found it in open ears. I keep finding it in connection, because I'm so addicted to connection.
Still more, though.
I just keep thinking about myself, about everybody. I continue to be furious, but silently. I lull myself to sleep and I rest. Finally.
I feel like the air is so moist that I could drink from it simply by breathing.