Closing Time in anticlimatic

I have been in the bad habit lately of typing out entries, mostly just out of a need to write, feeling satisfied with the writing process, and then deleting them instead of posting them. Not in a quick sensical way, like closing the browser tab, but holding down delete and watching the curser chew it all up at an exponentially increasing rate until it’s gone.

Which is about the current rate of this awkward summer of our Lord, 2021. Started out optimistic, but the saturating humidity and general foul global mood bent things sour. Work has been nearly impossible, and it’s not yet finished- but that smell is out and about, of late summer; dead, rotten flowers on the hot evening breeze.

Sarah and I have been cycling around the neighborhood, or walking down by the river recently. Our cats have been following us for these strolls, though I worry one might get hit by a stray late night motorist on the old surface streets. I miss summer already, despite it still presiding, and I am afraid of what winter will bring this year.

Been feeling sparks of the old magic, here and there. Some kind of change on the wind.