Lazy from C-Z

The wind was cold today, a Sunday, a proper start to September. We are within these months again. The road to the end of a very short year. A year for me where very little was accomplished. At the very least, compared to the previous one, this was a surprise blessing. Not without its challenges. Not without its pains. Miriam went to work an hour ago. We left each other at Starbucks after a mild break. I was trying to help her with the buses. She never seems to catch on with the intricacies of the public transportation. I let her know that the easiest (not necessarily the fastest) way to work is to take the 260 bus from across the street in our new place in East Acton and stop at the underground station in Shepherds Bush. From there, she can then take bus 94 going to Piccadilly Circus where she can easily walk to her workplace in Soho in about five minutes or so. She begged me to join her. I was still groggy and asleep at two in the afternoon. That seems to be our common waking...

Me sitting down in this room trying to write this piece is Dunkirk on wheels. The ticks and tocks of life going slow-motion and clockwise rotating beyond the control of mere clockhands, slowly spinning, spiralling, perhaps, out of grasp. I will never find solace for tonight's manic episodes, and I fear for the days beyond tomorrow; where I will end up, in what state would I be in, or how the game plays out, etc. The game with which plays over and over in my head. The game with which there is no winning nor losing. I will never know the truth, and probably it is best for me to keep these thoughts to myself. I have been in the past guilty of so many mistaken intuitions. The sky is darkening. No stars in the sky could mean rain, and that thought scares me so. The same rain that drenched my flesh from within the hedge I had taken for myself not too long ago. The same hedge from where I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited some more, for a miracle to happen. What if the mirac...