9:55 p.m. - May 12, 2002
A new outlook?
Each gust of breeze through the door carries the smell of fresh cut lawn and I have the lights off and it's the aroma, the rustle of leaves, that keeps me company on a night when I yearn for nearness or the satisfaction of knowing someone is close by.
Since I began the textbook series there lay an undercurrent of haste pushing me forward and it isn't visions of royalty checks that prods but an expiating swan song that I see dangling at the end of the stick. I don't want to complete the book because then I'm done and what else will I do?
