Writing anything at all is a work of translation exactly comparable to that of transmuting a text from one language into another.
That’s true. Translating life, experience, observations into words that liberate, soothe, perhaps express me, into words and phrases that interest or move you. This ain’t no easy weekend, this is hard, love.
So, there I was up early after not sleeping well, (not dealing with full-scale insomnia, at the moment), when I thought I would get up and maybe get some personal work done. Children, you can forget about that. Now it is five hours later, and this post is largely unwritten.
However, an attempt has been made. Rather than wait to post, I'll just go for it. My to-do list is long. And while this short missive will not assuage my guilt at not writing, I can put a faint check mark next to "Write."
|Here is Vera, not helping.|