Some days are just normal. I wake with a full glass and it slowly drops, drips, satisfies. No big crescendos. No big shifts or moments to shout from the rooftops.
Just glances of noticing life. Stopping for moments to say hello.
The rags that clean up things that are broken. Dirty. Messy. Then they're washed, clean. The messes never go away, but we're always prepared.
Old things stacked. Reminders of different habits. Of things that needed pure blood.
Just bits of inspiration. To-do lists. Quiet piano. Talk shows.
Just these basic things. There are bigger things under the surface.
But you already knew that.
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