daily mail

she pays don vim to keep me, a place to live will ensure my silence.
she's right. i'll be 50 chronologic years old one month from now, Sex and the city spent all my ambition, a long time ago. His girl friday, spent hers.
her friend wrote to me the other day, saying
"i know that i don't know you but i want you to know that i love you."

Mom's always had friends that are her pretend daughters, and they became more noticeable after our Jere passed.
like my baby sister, they all understood her better, she said.
"i love you" is pretty.
and they all seem to have awesome mothers of their own, already.
i would love to have them all as business partners one day.

whenever.

pandemics reveal the need for confession.
the maddening confirmation that we've been alone, all along.
yes we celebrate other people, and nature, and the connection between the cosmos and our imaginations.
but it's up to each and all to decide whether the gate ahead is another portal or another tunnel.

lately she's been befriending architects;
people who learn to read from a to z, to count from zero to nine, to map the daily maneuver of living beings between artifice and structure.
business should be fair and open.
money should never be an issue.