The low energy sniffles somewhat passed but are still there lightly. I leave for Berlin on Wednesday so I hope my energy returns soon. I'm writing from the kitchen again but it feels a bit different from last Sunday. All these Sundays connected through the web. Jumping through circles of chartreuse and dark purple. How color connects these things. These places and the things between them. The weekends and the movement between them. Sunday really is the best day to write.

The other night, talking on the phone with my mother. I was finally able to articulate what I was missing when I was a child and still now. Why does total trust feel like love? Taking someones words at face value. Not questioning. Is that really the definition? Could it be something else?

I woke up a bit late today. The sky was #abcbf5 blue. Sliding into this writing session. Feels like a bath for some reason. Like the morning equivalent to an evening bath.

I miss the desert. JT in winter. The short cold feeling of the air. The clumpy rough texture on the rock formations. All these strangers gathered around the rocks. Hearing echoing voices through the rocks. Somewhere in the distance. There's really no difference between a dream and a memory.