My block and neighborhood were quieter than in years past, but the People Through the Trees (as I will now call them) seemed to have lost their damn minds. If there was something to see, I would appreciate it, to a point. There's never anything to see, just hours of noise. I wanted to know what they were celebrating, but I'll wait until the Leopards Eat Their Faces to ask.
I am tempted to start believing in hell because so many deserve to go there.
We are parched here. Later, I'll drag another jug of water up to the grove.
The day dawned blazing, demanding I get off my ass and conjure up some colors. After a little stalling, I fell into the rhythm of it. But the colors...I won't know until tomorrow, of course.
Thanks for this, Liz. Too much for a tattoo, but I'm tempted to find music for it.
Do not forget gratitude. Work to make it shareable.
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