I want to sketch out three mores hours. I want to use permanent ink.
What happened to make me realize that I am carrying my home in a little blue bag? I'm not complaining, I just wish I had more throw pillows there.
Sometimes I can't remember which way was up or why you left or how many nails I've bitten off and spit into the sun over you and you and you.
I can't remember what number I'm on. Time for another list.
I miss August.