Out of the Woods

The fact that I'm not asleep is all by itself a tiny miracle. Or, perhaps just the result of several hours of dozing in a frigid car as it traversed the map from one state to another.

I post quickly tonight... this morning... whenever it is. Alwhen... isn't that his phrase? Might do might do. I don't steal. I homage things. And verb the nouns as best I can when staring through the trees.

Kirby's right... mustn't talk when lacking sleep. The sense I make does not entwine with human thought as much as I would like to wish. Statements crumble under pressure.

And I sit here and chuckle to myself. Out loud, though there's no one 'round to hear it. They sleep tonight. Something I should be doing. But I don't. Can't. There's a story reaching its destination. Characters at the gate.

The path illuminated.



Back to the story.