i used to care

about writing. every single day, even if it was a silly, meaningless post.

it was a good routine. i think i've been in survival mode too long. once i can relax, it will flow.

until then, i flounder in the "existential angst" of jon arbuckle:


"Although the wind"

Although the wind
blows terribly here,
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks
of this ruined house.

Izumi Shikibu