Three days in a row I've felt like this for temporary, minor moments:

shiny, high gloss with late-night confidence and just enough privacy to be blurry even to myself.

Three days in a row I've felt like this for temporary, minor moments:

building-tall shard of mirror showing me from to many angles, more accidental artificial blush than flush: 

I'm pacing in place to catch my breath. By which I mean:

drinking a blood orange concoction with all the lights turned off, ignoring each time my phone makes a sound, reading my newest book alongside an almost left-behind book, looking up words I don't know how to say in Spanish, watching the dried banana leaves slap against my upstairs window that faces where the sun will rise.

And planning a day tomorrow in which I don't run after anyone while barefoot, or drop my fiber prints in the water or get an allergic reaction the one time I go to downtown at night or lose my train of thought while lecturing or forget the homemade brownies in the oven or let anyone bully me over a photograph or or or.

But listening to this helps:

And the notes and boxes and film containers and emails I received -- pretty fucking amazing.

So don't get me wrong: wouldn't have it otherwise.

*

Someone asked me on Tuesday if I thought a particular person was trustworthy.

I didn't know, and my intuition told me both yes and no. 

The only answer I could give was that I couldn't be an authority to that.

That sums up my last three days.