Illness struck again suddenly, and without civility.  I looked down at pale hands and saw scales of undernourished skin.  My vision is blurry from the migraine that wouldn't allow another illness to take all the glory from an apparent food poisioning or stomach virus. Despite a bit of weakness, I arose to live and function the best I could.

The winter day was sun-kissed and I, unable to work, still made the venture out to soak up an experience, even if it come from my own hand.  There are a few errands to attend to, some artistic, but I intentionally neglect the repetitive and arduous tasks for a day of routine.

This day had become one intended for care and had been as far as I could bear with a few straightening-ups and scrubbing of counters here and there to settle my compulsive tendencies.  Besides that, I made room for sensitivity to linger awhile and comfort myself with warm coffee and soft music that lifts my imagination into softness and dreaming following after the breeze that cools and the sun slowly fades.