This time of year I start to yearn for a different place. Any place. I have resigned myself to being grounded by cold and fluctuations in the weather, but by now, I start drooling over Instagram posts from blossom festooned Europe, sandy southern beaches and Asian feasts. Take me there, I tell myself. I whisper back, yes, my dear, it just won't be in a straight line.
Since 2020, I have written the following: -grandiose grocery lists (written on an empty stomach) that often end up getlting left behind at home -funding proposals -delicately worded emails -harried Whatsapp messages -a slew of facebook messages (that basically kept me alive) -a tinder profile or two... -utilitarian text messages -heart felt text messages -the very occasional love note (on paper) to a friend or a loved one The things I have not written since 2020: -a journal -a multi-page handwritten letter -a play -a sketch -a novel -more than 2-3 blog posts that I didn't even publish -a pros and cons list
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