Promises, promises...
Spinning my current behavior, an agile patience and well-intentioned stubbornness, into a reason to keep plodding through the snow. Waiting in front of an empty fireplace and thinking about 17th century France. Oh Louis, you were so lucky. For me there are only glances at a future that may never be and memories so good I wonder if the past was really like that. I nearly ache now, and not with the cold that sticks the snow to the sidewalks but with something else, no more or less sinister. Stepping in right directions, away from danger, toward health and still wondering. I could've danced all night, but...