Wednesday, October 28, 2009

bury your head

I move slowly on days when I only have one (well, two) jobs. I don't sleep well, keep waking to turn onto my side, my back, my side again. It all started post-surgery with my tremendous brace, when turning had to be conscious. I need new colors, new curves in the land, new thoughts.

But where projectors fail, Nutella takes its place. A spirited discussion. The nuclear wings. Strangely enough, I've got it together.

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