I never give you my pillow
I only send you my invitations
Second post, keeping it very brief as I have to be up tomorrow at 5am. Today, helping out at my old workplace in Windsor. Tomorrow is their annual fundraising Art Market event, and I have agreed to open at dawn—for purely nostalgic reasons.
Helping with the setup today, a few hours heavy lifting the likes I hadn’t seen in a long long while. Summoned superhuman strength somehow. A strange feeling being back.
I can even remember the very first Art Market we had, so many years ago. The sun coming up over the horizon to the east, a thin fog hanging low. I can smell the brisk air, almost, as though it was yesterday.
But it isn’t. We push forward. Laden with the weight of a thousand yesterdays, carried a long time.
Tomorrow (variations on a theme), is another day.