I woke up from the yearly depression ten days ago. There's been many centimeters of rain, and I never like the moist way we do it here, but these rains are the ones who signal the leaves what to do.
The birds have been noising again, and I can hear the frogs again. The window is almost always full-open when this begins. The lights are an impossible god.
I joined the local makerspace in Wilmington. There is a fully functioning and completely equipped woodshop. I would type that sentence twice, but it barely matters. I found a home, I think. I am supposed to be there, I think.
I am looking for places where I am supposed to be.