Monday

The nights grow so long in sleeplessness, but come daylight there is warm sun streaming in through the 4th street windows. I prop one open with a book, feel the cool winter air on my skin and remember again what it is like to breathe. The newsfeed carries on relentless but you try not fall under. Glance at your bank account when rent is due but focus on watering the plant. The walls of your writing nook look more like a paranoid serial killer's by the day, but a world builds in the back of your head and you believe if you could only dive into it proper, all this despair could be worth it. Turn the clocks, wear the clothes and empty the pantry, embrace a solitary silence and live in the peculiar twists and turns of your imagination.

The sun sets. Everything is only beginning.