66: These days
These days, I find little else urges haste quite like an afternoons shadow.
These days, I find little else urges haste quite like an afternoons shadow.
No man bemoans a Mondays quickening who busies himself in duties of diviner revelations, but sets to task with an immediacy one lifetime affords.
There is an obviousness, when I write. An unreasonable urgency. It is the only thing I can bare to exchange my miracle for.