Time moves along differently when I'm alone; every minute a decision. I am reading randomly and waiting for direction. Where does it come from? I recently took care of a dog. Lilly would get up from a nap and wander around the corner of the schoolhouse. Why does she suddenly need to sniff things in the yard? Perhaps the answer to these questions is similar. I’d like to say the nag of needing to accomplish things is gone, but it remains as an overextended visitor. Never the less, I am thinking more freely and I am comfortable just committing shadows to the page. Never mind the need to know why.
