2008-07-16 - 8:58 p.m.
nothing lasts - neither winter, nor spring, nor any other season. but there's red clay deep under my fingernails.
it's funny. i don't want to talk, and i don't want to write. i don't want to cook. i don't want to read, and i don't want to go out or have any friends over.
all i want to do is work in my garden.