I used to think that there was an art to everything, any/every waking living moment. #strawberrymilk. and I was much happier, every little minute of my fleeting days. I wanted to fly with those days like a gazelle, fish, raven, water on rock. gone in a blink.

but somewhere along the way, enduring the moment (after moment after moment) became all I was doing and now it's HABITs. living itself can't be just a habit

status: migratin prep -> cottage / sans Labor Day