How vain to believe I have something useful to say every week.
How apropos of the spirit of the times, of nothing, this need to write about not having something to write about.
How reassuring, finally, to have written something; to be seen making something of my life, my life of something.
One thought on “Prick”
The cat is both dead and alive. You won’t find out what state it is untill you write it down 🙂