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03/26/18
Today is one of those early spring days, which does not yet feel like it, in terms of temperature, but which contains it’s essence nonetheless. On my walk here, to the public library, the wind whispered softly, but with purpose, through the trees, bushes and alleyways along my path.
I am struck by the sensation of an unheard voice, as though there is some kind of message to look out for. The eeriness that overhangs today has both the feeling of sorrow, and somehow, the qualities of childhood.
It is vanishing along with the ink in my pen.