The morning is cool, cloudy, I walk along the river looking for four-leaf clovers or absolution and finding neither, only the bottom of a coffee cup. It seems a fair enough win. Spend the afternoon in deja-vus, have I not stumbled over this sentence before? and stare out open windows. What point is there in work, when one could dance, and live instead? Summer lies before us like a promise, like redemption.
A story fell off my lips the other day while I was busy thinking on other things. That's how they like to appear, stories, they prefer to surprise you when your back is turned, like to tickle you when you think there's nothing left at the bottom of your creative well and find a giggle in your chest.
The Universe will have its way with you like that. All you can do is be here when it calls you.
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