work is steady, absorbsion as if the outside world is ended.    looking up find it has not.





stitching can be rhythmic, and never mind the capitals.             other words confound.



birds beat the window, damp now,                                       little feathers hoping for food.



now we  descend into darkness.



so you think i wear a cotton dress, while all round is storming,                      i do not.



i wear pyjamas.



sbm.