I am everything forgotten: the letters written and never sent, the pictures shoved in boxes in the attic, the words that were thought but never spoken. I am lost.
I often wonder how much we make depends on small random things. If it rained today. If a finch sang. If decades ago, our lover suddenly knocked, and their blue raincoat slumped to the floor. Perhaps this life is stitched with chance, and art is our astonished applause?
I couldn't travel to new and strange places, so I had to surround myself with new and strange things instead. Then, I became a little strange myself
🎨 David Wyatt
we need a city designed for neurodivergents, with dimly lit buildings, soothing colors, muffled noises, trains and trolleys, and bookstores and coffee shops within walking distance
Dad caught the virus a second time after 2 years so now I'm on leave to take care of him. Mild to moderate symptoms now vs severe the first time when he nearly died.