A Lack of Color

Some days my brain echoes with static and feels so stuffed with cotton balls that my favorite places feel grating and abrasive and my very existence is taxing and uncomfortable.

The Stories We Long to Tell

I don’t want to tell myself a story about the woods while sitting under fluorescent lights in a cubicle somewhere far away from them. We needn’t delude ourselves that our masterpieces are just a few months away, if only we keep biding time.