A week of rest isn't nearly long enough to mend half a lifetime of torn ligaments and strained musculature. I secretly dread the day when my health fails in the smirking face of weariness at carrying around my body. I'm slowly learning the ability to calm the stormiest of seas with closed eyes and slow breathing. Every ocean and whirlpool a landmark in my mind. I've lost count of whether doing the same thing every single week makes you disciplined, or fucking boring. Maybe it's both. And I'm so seasick of the horizon and swaying vision.
11:31 a.m. - 2017-03-20
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
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