The poems are coming, though pretty slowly and I’m polishing them very slowly as well. There’s nothing to post and there’s so much to post but it’s all very uninteresting to you and all very fascinating for me. Days are sometimes bright and sometimes dark. The little aches that I feel are sometimes little sometimes big. My views fluctuate so does my emotions. There are days when I corrode together with the shade of the clouds and then I wake up all new again. A shadow hovers over me despite the absence of the sun, despite the sickle-shape of the moon. It hovers and tinkers with the frail frail person that occupies half of my body. The half, the one that is stronger, is often asleep.