Voodoo ebb and flow; Summer setting on the horizon. My fancy white linen crumples to a dirty gray mound. Wicked vibes are rippling. The days are getting shorter; I can […]
Spring rolled through like bruised apples; the house still smells like Winter. Somewhere is a missed opportunity. Summer is turning into hot pumpkin lattes. No one gives a cent because […]
It’s August; we’re still here; Summer stole Spring’s rite of passage. We waited while experiencing the four-corners of isolation. Our hibernation feels eternal. I’ll never understand the mechanics of time.
Broken days causing the loss of time—our money gone along with our peace of mind. We will sell our souls to go outside.