I'll wake up Mundy morning dead tired from restless dreams about the forbidden sound of fish on ice, a harmonica full of ants, cat paws that fall in the night, the breathing of waterfalls, the depth of mountain roots and falling soot from the fires of Viking pyres.
I keep telling myself all of this will make me stronger. But every day crawls by and ends with me standing in the same place. Dizzy watching the trains rush by, waiting for things to be alright, because this chaos should give up, eventually right?