notes for the human heart
My apartment smells like fried onions and potatoes. Remnants of the sliced onions and potatoes I made last night, at ten pm, when the craving finally intersected with a hunger intense enough to get over the effort it would take to make them. It was a pleasure, then, to slice the onions and potatoes, and… Continue reading simply
The last couple of days have been stretched out blue. The kind of blue that lets white through, so that everything has a sort of sheen. My kitchen is a mess. The kind of mess that you avoid. I know there are a lot of you, dear Human Hearts, who know how to walk around… Continue reading the blue evaporates
I keep coming back to the thought, "We cannot lose ourselves during this." And, of course, I'm thinking of the pandemic. But I'm also thinking of where I was before our lives were interrupted. Seventeen months ago, I lost my mother to a long illness. Not long after, I committed myself to a psychiatric hospital… Continue reading the human heart has not changed
No Accounting for Happiness 