home

unwound

Normally when I think of the desert it doesn’t take long for me to remember the sunsets and sunrises, which I still believe are unparalleled when compared to any of the other places I’ve lived. By comparison, this year was a good year for sunsets in Ottawa. They fed me a little something that helped to keep me going when I wanted to hide in a small dark room with a book of scribbled quotations.

I looked through that book this morning, figuring that I could find something that fit my quiet mood, just so that I could fill this Monday space and my obligation to write here once again. I failed—they are all either too revealing or too obscure or too cliché to share. Instead, I will give you the view that the sky gave me for five minutes last night, when I felt its hand on my head as it tried to calm me down and remind me that I have miles to go, so many that no one can count them, and that everything is temporary, even this.