On days 66 and 67 I did not do anything. On day 68 I happened by the river where I had written that Keats poem, I took the fifth stanza out of the river and put it back where it should be. The words were still clear and legible, despite being submerged in an icy flow of water for a month or more.
So much of what i do is on a computer, I recently had the understanding that it was all lost. The essays, the poems, the pictures, the music. It turned out to not be the case. Thank Jehovah! In retrospect i am intrigued by how i felt about it. I was very concerned, i was not angry. At first i believed myself to be very pragmatic, sensibly thinking of how to move forward. Later i was upset by the thought that i may in fact be very unimpressed with my past endeavors. Now i think that it is a good thing to respect what has been done, but care more for (what can be done)
Anything?
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