The sunrise through my window. i drank coffee that was too strong and didn't sleep a wink last night. but i dreamt- or perhaps i had visions, sudden inspiration for things i want to do when the sun is out. i thought to myself: today is a month since the summer solstice. what have i done these past thirty days?
I wish ideas were a body fluid- they could cut me open and drain my brain when i get bloated, and put it all in little vials for cold storage. and when the time was right i could find the ideas, all nicely bottled up, and i'd actually do something with them. but in their current state, i can't do too much: the ones i don't get around to harvesting, they slosh around in my head til they spoil and fall from recollection.
But i guess that's the purpose of writing things down.
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