It is Tuesday. I shift my legs over the side of my invalid bed, finding floor, testing the ground of recuperation. I believe that I can stand. The air is light, a kind of pouring. I offer no resistance.
Telling: Streams & Logs
Telling: Streams & Logs
It is Tuesday. I shift my legs over the side of my invalid bed, finding floor, testing the ground of recuperation. I believe that I can stand. The air is light, a kind of pouring. I offer no resistance.