Every other month there’s a week when all I’m doing is working. Maybe you have a week or two like that as well. Working, commuting, working, and then suddenly you look up and day has turned to night.

Every other month there’s a week when all I’m doing is working. Maybe you have a week or two like that as well. Working, commuting, working, and then suddenly you look up and day has turned to night.
[Sometimes in the living of every day
I often forget about the life of it
the intentionality, “the composing of the life”
that I once set out to do. The daily bustle,
that once emerged from me –
often swallows me up
until all I can do is hold on for dear life
to banal rituals
so that I don’t lose myself.]
For pacificleo.