Is it bad that someone of my age still imagines? In my mind, the backyard has an old crumbling castle, not a wooden jungle gym infested with spiders from decades ago when stranger's children lived here. The cats living in the rose bushes are soft hearted demons swarming a giant rose tree. The orange trees are a forest of trees that weep heady sap that fills the air with sticky-warm mist, and the trees only bear rotten, thick skinned fruit but their blossoms are made of sugar. I hope/think today I might actually leave the house and explore the backyard. Calories so far this week:
Sunday-unmentionable
Monday-700
Tuesday-750
