"And folded in this scrap of paper is a land I grew in."
I'm not sure what I might have for an entry this morning. I'm bone tired. I want to be on a train headed south, just riding, resting, watching out the window as the world grows warmer and at least a little green. But trains are too expensive, and, besides, I have to sit here. In Providence, where there is no green to speak of, it's currently 46˚F, but we're promised a slightly less chilly 57˚F. Sunny. And that sky.
I can talk about the weather. I can talk about exhaustion. I can talk about boredom.
Yeah, I fear that's all I have today. I'll just sit here and hope it gets warm enough today to open my window a crack.