Every morning I wake up with the hope that it is actually spring. And yet, every morning - despite my wakeup time becoming later and later the 7am dawn still looks something like this.
I miss my bike, I miss seeing my own skin, my toes want sand -my nose, some sun.
1 comment:
I complain that it's cold here--but I know Syracuse has a TRUE winter. I sympathize, dear friend. Hang in there. Alcohol helps.
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