When the bright sun made its appearance to my consciousness, prior to my eyes opening, I quite believed that I had awakened somewhere else.  It was so close that I could touch it.  The air was cold just like it might be in New York city at this time of year.  I would have run down some unknown street to refresh my senses and jump start my mind into positivity.  Then I would head out to some theater or coffeeshop, mingle with community and act upon the urgency to improve our surroundings....

Aware but content that I was where I was this morning, I walked through the lovely and shaded suburbs and got my exercise, sang prayers on my knees, and groomed my illustrious black hair that is admired and by a regular patron, from where I write, whom I have grown fond of and who I allow touch my strands.  I participate in many of the activities of my dream but they are still too far and few between for me.  And I have spent my last dollars on a cup of coffee and biscotti in order to leave my room for awhile and witness life for awhile.  For a few days, I will be able to afford only one outing to a library where I might let my mind exhale a bit. 

I turn to my library collection and I pick up Virginia Woolf, my first source of literary inspiration, and I sigh as I hear her, almost audibly, speak about how women writers need funding.....and I just think over and over again, "I can't do this anymore."  I cry out to God, please supply some freedom in this area.  There are too many burdens and I am worn out by my tears. "I can't do this anymore...."