grey sunday morning, sleep with zolpidem, wake with fluoxetin,
a code no one fully understands, but it seems to work.
Son is up doing his weekend things, making coffee.
it is eight in the morning.
The cat wants attention.
blog this.
who cares?
look at the alps today.
that is the plan.
The streets are wet, the sky is grey.
St Martins bell tolls once.
quarter past.
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