1 december

And when I returned to think of other things I found the pen was dry and also I was thirsty - or was it the other way around? I kept going past the end of the page and there were no lines to follow, no space to color within. It was unclear when I would be told more and so I knew to keep making it up as I had been doing and soon I could not tell the difference between space and time and color and sound. It was a hard row to column and the navigation seemed unsteady, but I knew something would become of everything I had seen and found and built from tiny boxes on graph paper stacked up to make metrics - to skip rope and mark time. On the door frame you can see the record keeping and all the spinning that has lifted me up through the years but instead of checking and measuring and marking some more, now it's time to go through.