It’s one of those kind of days.  3am and a To Do list.

Yesterday I was liquid, alive in exotic locales.  Swirling in music:  Bon Iver, Gillian Welch, Scott Matthews.

This morning, there are no artful photographic images.  No graceful alliterations to spout forth.

Just a sharpened pencil outlining a list.  PDFs of school calendars.  Bank statements and a calculator.

I tell myself there is an art to this.  This practical living we all dance through.  That there must be some merit in writing about the most mundane.  Some inspiration in the quest to find the magic.

The seeking of some satiating thread (so subtle), in even this most parched scape.

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