The other night, as I walked along the wet sidewalk, in and out of the light, passing under the street lights, I tip-toed around the earthworms that had oozed out of their telluric homes to worship the rain. As I went along, I pondered about how poetic it all was: I hated the spaces between the street lights because I had no idea if I was stepping on any of the poor worms. It was amazing how a little illumination helped...
Today I was haunted by the ghouls of my all-to-recent-past... Have they invented black holes to tie around fingers yet?
This entry was going to be a lot better. I lost all my thoughts, though. My apologies.
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