2017-03-31 - 10:48 a.m.
the beauty of the world which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder, wrote virginia woolf.
the baby begins to stir in his sleep, his little body swimming up toward wakefulness. when i am sad around the baby, i steal his happy heart.
* * *
reading: the new yorker. this is the first issue i have read in its entirety since the baby was born.
listening to: wolf parade.
working on: i do not know. healing, maybe. yes, let's say that.
in the garden: freezing rain and cold ice mud.