Outside I can hear the cars go by, and the sky is blue, but I am not. The floor is clean. The mouse is gone, or dead, whichever. Not a lot of the day left, but the sun is still shining, and I gaze out at the trees, I see a cloud go by.

I’m almost done the book. I don’t want to be done the book, it’s that sort of book. The kind you wish you could erase your memory of and start afresh, anew, from the beginning, with all the skepticism and such. Be drawn in, again. Learn the characters names, again, and love this one, hate that one, for the first time, again. Have the story unfold before my eyes, again.

I should be outside on my bike, enjoying the weather. Whatever. Instead, I stroll from here, to the stoop, sitting with my back against the wall in my garden, and back again, back and forth, with my book.

I have been, what I call, out of book, for months. Em, no, years. Two years I think.

Bored. Tired. Thinking too much. I don’t really know.

But this one I read in days. And look around, hungry, for more. I thought, more of that, please

Neil Gaiman, American Gods.

hallelujah.

More thoughts later, maybe. Have to process.

And here are some recent garden shots which were taken whilst finishing the book.