January 11, 2014
This is quick writing. It is just another hundred words. My son has come home rounding up the stairs. I think he came home alone without his squeeze. There may problems in squeeze land. There may not be problems in squeeze land. My sonís world life perspective is different from mine and while I sometimes try to understand it, I know I cannot invade that skull of bone and bloody brains any more than I could that of a chicken. He comes home and goes to his room. It is Sunday. I donít know; he may have been working today.