this christmas was/is a white and unseasoned season. maybe even bitter, although it does not feel so. it does not feel like anything, really.
the snow is crisp. the cold is timely. the moon pours blue light over the silent(ish) city. the room temperature is adequate.
when i am not working, doing something practical, i just sit and stare into nothing. blank. more than blank, empty three-dimensionally.
my one and only, elegant, white cat with the yellow eyes has been lost for a week tonight.