A pleasant morning .
There were days when the excitement was up, mornings cool, slightly foggy as I loved them, those expirations smokers, heavy shadows on the ground and the sunshine. I bounced in my little home at the prospect of a joyful time, short term always, coffee, people, her landscapes, memories. But setting a guideline, a lifeline to happiness linear, dotted with maturities cogitées reflections or standards, fell within the extreme difficulty or even total disability. Yet I longed for this mental construct but the grid of time had always been unlikely. The distant, scary, was probably only possible in dreams. I felt the provisional and cycles come and go, print, my mood thermometer as defective, without certainty of the season but to circumstances and concerns unique to each new morning. I floated and tried to navigate a river whose level varied; small stream or river, the boat pitched sometimes. Everything depended on the tub and was well like that.
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