At last a moment comes when nothing presses on you, when nothing is asked of you. You spend the day writing, spend the day thinking of stories and myths, of how people become who they are, spend the day rewriting your own history in someone else's journey because you know no other way to repair what has been broken, but today you are not unhappy about it. Midtown carries on outside my window and I ignore it. I feel a step behind again, like I haven't quite gotten my bearings yet, but I'm working on it.
I'm working on it.
One of these days you'll catch up to the Red Queen, have a nice cup of tea in her presence, talk about the things you've seen on your travels, but not yet, not today. Today you're just catching your breath, before you can try to reach her
again.
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