Today there's nothing but a gray haze not quite thick enough to be called an overcast, and wreaths of smoke curling above chimneys. It's a scene of insufficient bleakness. It's like being served a bad meal that's too small to satisfy your hunger, so you wish there were more of it even though it's bad. This January has turned me into Oliver Twist.
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- rejectomorph (
flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind
Twisted
Today there's nothing but a gray haze not quite thick enough to be called an overcast, and wreaths of smoke curling above chimneys. It's a scene of insufficient bleakness. It's like being served a bad meal that's too small to satisfy your hunger, so you wish there were more of it even though it's bad. This January has turned me into Oliver Twist.
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Reset Thirty-Five, Day Fourteen
Monday was sunny but cool, and I've sat here for two hours nodding off without thinking of a singe pertinent thing to say. I've been very tired, and…
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Reset Thirty-Five Day Thirteen
Sunday got very, very wet. It was raining when I went to sleep around eight o'clock in the morning and raining when I got up around four o'clock in…
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Reset Thirty-Five, Day Twelve
Saturday was grey anticipation, the cool air expectant, the tentative showers like a tease. Not until nightfall did the rain really begin, and then…
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