Many nights have passed. Many nights with the length of long winters.
One. Then there was two. Then the third. Then somewhere, the count was lost.
Evidently, my mind isn't what it used to be.

I want to be the fly on his wall.
Or, maybe his back. I wouldn't have to travel so much then. He'd do that bit for me.

My space has been invaded. I wonder if I can call it my space if I haven't used it for long periods of time. These laws on property would let me know.

I begin to understand Kafkaesque concepts. I must learn to spell the world.

In other news, I read a book that promises to be fun, allow my face to become fertile ground and lie at regular intervals.