Morning comes after two cups of French Press.   I sit here at the desk, peeking out the glass door to  the shady side of the street.  I do not know where I will be living, what I will be doing, or who I will be doing it with next month.  Uncertainly, I move in and out of situations and get swept up in my ideas and fantasies.  I buy and sell, make and remake, move-in, move-out, leave homes, careers, friends and relationships.  I move out of comfort

and into uncertainty because it feels more like home moving than staying in one place.

I have to put the words on the paper and look at it to make it real.

Raising a family, sprouting barriers and responsibilities might have changed me, but I didn’t. I’m unchanged in some ways, still running through the hallways of the hotels, gardens, and neighborhoods. Do you know what I mean?