cinzo

It is still dark, it is winterly cold on the way to the bathroom, the bedroom is warm when returned to. Gather the clothing from the floor, left there yesterday evening. A collapse into bed now every day, falling into the sometimes welcoming and sometimes rejecting arms of sleep. Rejection is then when all that happens is a study of the cieling, and the struggle to shape the pillow so that it cushions the head and the neck does not have to do all the work.

Go into the kitchen, a disgrace and chaos, left over from last nights cooking. Oh, there is no way that this will be the occupation of the next hour.

The son is creating a web site in his room, and it is a mess too

And the weather's colour is grey.
Saturday.
Sabado, cinzo