roseembolism | Storm day, storm thoughts

The creek behind my work is swollen and brown, but it still seems to maintain some of its quiet orderliness now, even as it rushes along, sweeping branches and debris downstream. No frenzied rapids for this brook, it's too far down on the plain for that. Just an eager movement of water forward and gone.

This is a day where, if I had an inner tube, I'd go floating down that creek to see it enter the bay. Or perhaps a makeshift raft made out of the boxes in the dumpster. It's a moody gray day when I have moody gray thoughts, and I want to be away from here. Not to go anywhere...just away. Maybe someplace far enough that I can leave my thoughts behind. Not struggling, not adapting, not trying, just drifting with the current.