The beautiful September weather lifts my spirits. Golden flecked maple tree swaying in the breeze. Light flutter of quaking aspen. Mushrooms pushing through the forest duff.
The garden begins the slow crawl back under the sheets. The leaves, pine needles, hay, grass, weed carcasses, seeds, fecal matter, and whatnot.
Weasels, worms, crows, and roots. Black soil and clay. A general malaise behind the senses. What is next, what is next. What do I do next?
Post-Eclipse (Ego) - *I* will defeat you. I have defeated you. I have always defeated you. I will always defeat you Because I already have.
1 week ago