The grey skies outside my window nearly deterred me from actually leaving the flat, and a feeling of blandness kept me from any action. Not until I was 2½ hours late did something actually happen. I got up, grabbed my sweater, which serves as a coat sometimes, and finally heard the wellknown sound of the door slamming closed behind me in the empty stairwell. Time definately not on my side, I still walked slowly, with a blank mind, save for the images of a few people I passed on the street. I do that a lot these days, have a blank mind. It seems to help me to not have to deal with all those issues that would otherwise obscure sight of and the ability to deal with everyday life.
But it's a short-sighted thing to do, and I know it. It's been a long year, and this is not over.
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