it's kind of desperate the way i am reaching for something to say. much like fishing for small beans in a pot of water. the last few of the boiling. the ones you decide are not there only yes they are, as you'll later discover.

so, i feel this nagging last few beans feeling of wanting to say something. encompassing.

some wisdoms must have accrued somewhere. oysters are irritated into spouting pearls. if that may happen perhaps it is not so much to ask.

if you say a word often enough for long enough it becomes alien and wonderful, alterations hinged on a single word. i only say this because my landscape is repetitious and i am looking for its meditation. i shall begin to note it with care.

today i begin as cartographer of the ordinary.