There is an immense crater, the size of a small lake. Where water once flowed from a nourishing stream into the crystal clear waters of this lake, now the stream is a barren river bed. Dust drifts away at the slightest breeze, deepening the crevice, cracking the ground. Where the lake used to be, the underwater plants have shriveled from the sun’s glare, lying flat against the hard, hot surface of the crater. It smells like death.
Time in the Cracks
I suck at multi-tasking. For me it means dishtowels end up in refrigerators, butter ends up in the dishwasher, the keys are god-only-knows-where, dinner is burned and I suddenly wake up from a creative coma to discover I’ve been driving down some road and have no idea where I even am. Whoever came up with this godforsaken idea that our… Read More
How Do You WANT to Feel?
Learning to manage your emotions is a life-long practice. Don’t expect overnight success.