I keep writing these things.
They seem to want out.
Out! Out!
There they go.
But once out, do they live on?
The screen makes it seem so.
But this is a notebook.
Unlined, she gave it to me long ago.
And here I am using it.

The day beckons.
That kindred spirit of mine.
You know, my guardian angel.
Nietzsche.
Yes, that's right!
How's that for pompous?
Well, I'm carving out the time.
I hope you do too.
Life can seem futile without it.