So. In the area of progress, the winter has brought distraction, and opportunities to reconfigure.
Work that resides inside me was shown in parallel, when driving with a winter full moon. By myself, I remembered: music still allows me to separate from the internal environment.
How could I have forgotten, from yesterday, when I danced in the kitchen?
Here, the work is done for me. Floods in. Fills. Moves past.
Floods hardly stay in one place. Never for a cup of for tea, rather at its own pace and desire. Oh, convince me to live otherwise, for I am not so easy to sway. If only for 3 and a half minutes or so.
This is the what.