The days are supposed to be quiet, but they are not. They are supposed to give you space to breathe, and weave, and twirl into the ether, but they do not, and you do not know how to make them. You're certain there's a trick somewhere, certain you read an instruction manual with the right steps to take but you cannot remember where you saw it now, and the places you've been are so far behind there's no way to reach back and grab it.
You book a bus ticket, pack a day bag, pack a word of wisdom, wonder what comes next. Adrenaline runs through your veins like bolts of lightning. You know there's a way to lasso it for your own bidding, but now you are just being dragged along.
All in due time.
All in due time.
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