Thursday, November 20, 2025, 19.1*, 83% RH, 0638
Cold catches our breath, displays vapor. Frost. Silence. Soleil highlights Potential Images, Surrealists, blurs other titles on wooden shelf. Allowing no one passage to warm beds, to me, to interrupted dreams, Ruger sleeps in the hall beside boxes. Will today provide energy to move them? No longer numbering the days since he left, that anniversary approaches. Soleil shines trees. Soft knit cap, taken off, left Tuesday beside desk, absorbed candle wax; easier to remove from the falling dish.
Life is abstract.
Art: “Red Moon” LJ Austin
