These walls are missing some color. With the shades drawn it is an egg-shell cage. This home. There are many nights here spent sitting.

Camia and I spoke today about the situations one finds herself in when every moment is pregnant and meaningful. The stressful times when you do not know what may happen but you are for sure that it will change everything. And then the situations that follow where everything returns to normal although you still want the urgency and reflective insights. But instead things are just things.

I have acquired most of what I need externally. And I also have Thom. And then there’s the egg-shell colored walls that surround me.

Is it the whiskey the book or the iPod that will provide the right inspiration? From where will my color come? And who is still out there? Audrey? Steffen? Kristina? Robert? My sister or Thom? For whom am I even writing? This blog once offered me a lot of possibility. Now it sits upon my piles of unopened mail and forgotten deadlines.

And yet, some spaces are infused with shades or shadows that may actually outline some possibility. Some kind of harmony within this pale container.