August 2011
1 post
Going Home
I am so deep inside my own head that I am barely even present in the car. The clutter is collecting faster than I can sort it out. I pace up and down the aisles, searching for a place to put this. It does not neatly fit into my obsessive, already established, groupings piled in towers so high that I cannot see the tops from the ground anymore. There is no pile, no shelf, no corner. I hold it in my...