A Glass of Water.


Today I am interested in the habits we keep. 

I am interested in how ways can rut themselves into our day to day, and a hobby becomes a honing beacon, and how at your new home you build a trellis to grow snap peas. 

Time must move like a rock down a hill, growing momentum as it goes. Days build so quickly now a year feels like a conversation over dinner at that restaurant we used to go to where we tucked ourselves into the corner upstairs. I count the weeks based on how many pages I have written and how long it has been sine I’ve seen you. 

I don’t think there is anything wrong in wanting more even when you have a lot. 

Doesn’t the rosemary house seem like a universe ago? I heard something smart and have been repeating it for a while now. It is that, there is no time when it comes to the past, only the memories that matter and the ones that do not. It explains why I can so vividly recall the taste of a sazerac on your tongue, but entire households I’ve kept are loose in my mind like spilt water. 

I am in the practice of making a few new habits and digging new trenches. In my next ouse I’ll plant snap peas and have a glass pitcher I fill regularly with iced tea. And I won’t think about you at all. 


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