I worry about January. Especially at three o'clock. Here it comes. The dark.
I take advantage of the wan light to take photos anyway. My fingers are stiff with cold, but I don't care. Exhilaration. Say it with me. Exhilaration!
I'm reading Elizabeth Flock novels right now, swallowing them whole, convulsing with admiration and happiness. So good yet unsettling.
What is it that makes us want to scare ourselves? Like little kids begging for ghost stories or a roller coaster ride.
Because really, I don't like to feel fear.