14 february

I didn't go as far as I had planned this time -- let's say hoped -- but sure i went somewhere. A treadmill doesn't lead to else but still there is some progress. Let me rearrange a few tendons and make a bit of muscle in a workshop on the side: we are all the makings, and we are much makers. Any story has a writer or a liver or a taker but let it only be notes that are drawn away from this sketch -- a catch and carry, find and deliver retribution renegade, fading fast as the sun and leaning hard into the stars.