No words coming. I ought to write something interesting.
We had a busy day and I was full of thoughts: things to do, things I wish I’d done, things I remembered from years ago, and things on the list to do tomorrow. We spent the day surrounded by people and noise, comings and goings and children running, food being served, friends greeting friends, doors swinging open and slamming shut.
Now it’s late and I ought to write something interesting. But all I have in my head is blissful silence, paragraphs of white and space. And sleep.
More tomorrow. I promise.
Grongar 