Ten.Eight Hundred & Twenty-Eight
I need to be where I can see the sun rise.
Bacon, scrambled egg. What I really want is that frittata. I need to find a recipe.
Some kind of haziness. Smoke? Thin fog? Whatever it is it makes the landscape look more like a dreamscape. I’m in some other world.
More words, more words. Her voice. The way it sings. Undulations slow like honey.
Two turkey vultures pecking away at fresh road kill. It’s kind of obscene when you look at it. I wonder if the passersby will try to shoo them away. But isn’t that just life? Also, those birds are much bigger up close than I’d imagine they would be.
They talk about all the ones they know without power. It happened, it really happened. Some seem so worried. It is but a mild inconvenience compared to what others must endure on a regular basis.
We have to relocate and that means a shifting of everything. Things I’ve learned this almost-one-year of living in California: don’t plan an event during fire season. Also: read more Octavia Butler.
The thing is that I tried to make it easy for the team while I was away. All that work for naught.
I think the work of the past few weeks is finally catching up with me. I can barely keep my eyes open, can barely complete a sentence. Faded.
The breeze is cool. You can feel the season’s shift. The mums died while I was away.