Can’t trust that day.
Can’t trust me, either,
to pay attention to A’s birthday yet.
But now it’s Friday, very early. Week—time—passes so quickly. Odd I don’t recall any of it immediately. Each day’s events erased by its successor. Ah yes: noticing the repeating/habitual ones jump into focus if I give them a mo’. Like making tea, wiping up spills, swiping away crumbs, translating German words, patting the dog—on and on. Is this what “living in the moment” is? Or self observation, self-remembering? Brrr! I really am nothing, Jan J!
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