I awoke from a dream this morning, and the first thought to enter my mind was that I used to recall the days in here.
03/13/2016: I have no clue why I wrote that, about where, what, or when other than the date. I must have been thinking of the house.
I’m somewhere between hope and ruin.
Every room bears a cross. The beam that keeps Christ’s arms open sags where his palms bleed, as if the weight of our sins upon his shoulders prove too heavy for the wood.
I was somehow fooled into thinking that fate is a little more judicious than it appears to be. Or maybe it is and I’ve merely let my emotions get to me, and in doing so, took on the notion that the Universe has resorted to picking names out of a hat.
George T. Mormann 