Dearest dabblers, inventors of color and space between the lines, my fellow hopeless optimists: I’m afraid I don’t have the time to love you anymore.

I refrain from writing here because I can’t control the whine my words convey. The whine is a sound I cannot abide, yet it persists. Originating in I can’t I can’t I don’t have time, time, time. Though the sound carries on through days and seasons, it never settles into an unnoticeable drone somewhere in […]

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