I surrender to the abyss calling my eyelids ever down, to the place only seen with eyes closed while breath is deep and even. My body weary and mind ascatter I bid goodnight to the other late night wanderers, may your dreams deliver the things day life never seems to.
1/3rd of the way through book 3 of a 14 book series. 1-6 will be mostly me remembering what I read years ago, the rest are going to be a slog. I mean to be free of this series of books before the end of the summer, I just wish it didn’t mean I was so tired and so distracted.
Love, symmetry, hope, tradition, duty.
Perhaps I’ve read too many books, perhaps too few. They’ve filled my head with ideas of how a family should look, how order should proceed. I dream for respect and fear the burden of sitting at the head of the table.
I suppose I dream a great many things, so few of them have any bearing on the world at large. Why should that one be such a totem?