i was soul tired today all day. it's been snowing since yesterday and it's lovely but it's hard work. the dogs love it so i get in the spirit with them but then i'm exhausted. i was thinking again today all mister needed was a good clear diagnosis and a simple change of food. he didn't need to be cut open and explored for nothing, for the speculation that he had pancreatic cancer and would most likely be dead soon. i've been not thinking about this, distracting my brain with the charade of the reality tv show of the demockratic cacas and the specious impeachment, but looking at mister i just wonder how much shorter his life grows with unnecessary surgeries, and will we have another spring, another summer, and how high will the sea rise, and will we swim again. and then i'm thinking of the blank where he is now in the future. i know the future doesn't exist, but i see it now, like a figure in snow, lapsing, the vague contours, is the figure softly breathing, or is it the snowflakes slowly accumulating, and my crystalline white breath, my tired mind sinking like a feather of golden down drifting into sleep.