Sunday Brooding No.2: Wan, Waning, Waned

A tomato, a can of olive oil-soaked sardines and cheese. It’s hard to swallow dinner properly on Sunday evenings, much less down a complex medley of ingredients.

It rained this afternoon shortly after I got home. Everything in DC is sticky, misty and wet in the warm months. Rain washed away the flotsam of a blip of a weekend. A morsel of a respite.

I don’t remember much about this weekend. I clung to it so desperately, the anxiety of letting go dominated and impaired the ability of any nascent memories to imprint on my brain.

I’ve downed a few cups of tea, my productivity wan as my exhausted face. If I can only marry myself to yet an other challenge. I’ve done it many times before. Why the drag on productivity and inspiration now?

Week of August 1st, please be kind to me.

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