I may just call her Done
aka Singing Woman.
She ended up resting here for a while...
My cloths have become kind, they often hold one another. Until it is time to go. While small cloths are about being held, large cloths are about holding. Blankets, not art. It is important to me that they not be "art". It is hard to explain. But someday I will be able to find the words. If I live long enough.
Weird summer. Now 55 degrees. I treated myself to a new cloth drying rack. For drying without birdshit.
There is a covid explosion here. Still masked up everywhere. I get looks. Not interested in being one of the "everyone will get it" people. I don't trust its long term effects. My body, my choice. At least I can say that for now.
So yes. There is birdshit. I have created a sanctuary it seems.
And then Bullshit. Well, we just need to live with that. Do our best to remain kind.
Today is the man's birthday. I think he forgot.