Another day is almost over. I am wrestling with the implication of another day lost. Yet I sense that without the wrestling there would be no implication; there would be no loss of a day. I close my eyes. There is a metallic taste in my mouth. I remember my laundry.
The laundry is not dry. I re-start the dryer and go to the store. I come home to words crawling across the page. These words fascinate me. They move in various combinations and have different meanings. They continue to move and rearrange themselves until they point to new meanings.