A copy of a copy of a copy…

when degrees of freedom
fail
just one
a single loss
enough to imprison
caged
still

There is a good kind of tired, and a bad kind. The good kind lets you know that you had a good, full day, that you were productive, that you made fairly decent choices. The bad kind is like getting kicked in the face after you’ve already been shot a few hundred times. (I am thinking of the Jersey tollbooth scene in “The Godfather” with James Caan.)

Space.

It’s time to leave the country.