Sensory Notes

People.

I cleaned my room just to avoid all the work I have to do this evening before I retire.

For now I'm working on my observational essay...and YES. I'm writing about the accident. I can't pass this up. And hey, I have the police report in front of me, so why not? Plenty of notes to work with!

Broke out the vinyl player and good 'Ol JT! Mr. James Taylor. An appropriate selection for the tone of the evening. Yay "Sweet Baby James!" Good times.

I need to shut the hell up.

VIOLENT CRUNCHING. SCATTERED STYROFOAM. Pieces. Dirty plastic.

And what did you see?


Spinning landscapes

I've been finding letters that I have never sent. I've poured out so much on these pieces of paper only to never share those feelings I once felt. I hold the letters in my hands and smell them, trying to see if I can catch the scent of that time in my life. Was it sweet? Bitter? Stale?

I gave too much to some people...and to others? Well...perhaps not quite enough. Colorful exchanges, monochromatic exchanges, pale exchanges...they vary...just like the people they were once meant to greet.

They never will.