Words on a blank page. Words on a blank screen. No place to go, no destination to aim for. Just words on a page.
There is no thought here apart from being in the moment. Feeling the cold coming in from the foresf and the noise carrying over from the volleyball court.
Of the television a few notches too loud. Of the smell of food from the fridge that struggles to go on and will only meets its saviour tomorrow — a Monday.
Listening to the clock that ticks and feeling the heart that beats. Listening to the teeth that are being ground and the tinnitus that is a constant companion.
A full day is coming to a close. There’s lots to do and sleep to catch up on. Another story will write itself tomorrow, maybe there’ll be more.
For all that, there’s tomorrow. For today though, there are more words to write and more breaths to be aware of yet.
Some days, there are so many stories running within that seems impossible to sift one from another and share it. They’re jumbled and tumbled. All that emerges are mumbles.