Tuesday, 11 March 2014


Days have been slipping by quietly without making too much noise. Softly, internally, so that I've barely noticed them. Like a pulse: coming-home, afternoon game-playing, mint tea-drinking, list-making, dinner-cooking, The Goldfinch-reading, couch-resting, story-reading, bed-time snuggling, morning alarm-setting. Each diffusing energy levels just a bit more. And in that all-consuming rhythm, feeling a bit too tired to do much thinking. I guess that's resulted in not much interesting to read over here...

1 comment:

  1. Slipping by quietly seems so nice to me right now. Too much thinking over here lately. A little slipping would be welcome.



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