Turning

My head is heavy, it must be the barometric pressure declining. My muscles are twitching, and I am nonetheless on the mend from something. When I turn, I find myself strangely estranged from my self. And then I turn again, and recognize something. The point is to keep turning, and not to look back, at least not now. No, not now.

I’m not at all sure that this blog still makes sense. But I guess I will give it a try for a while.

— Falkenburger’s Dream