it is gray, and it even sounds gray, and all is muted, which could be pleasant, if i wasn't in catatonia, and even so, i went swimming with my golden boy in the grey still water with delicate drops dotting the surface. i'm dwelling on the demise of pebble beach and mr.'s lameness and my age which is older than my years and the thought this may be the last time we can swim and i almost hope my last winter in this place and country of dread.
i should take a vacation from these pages when they go woebegone but as i can't remove myself to vacate i feel i have to keep filling the space. i fill the space, and i wish i could fill it with light.
it's sunless.
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