I'm just forging ahead. I have to believe things will work out. It reinforces the idea that I'm so alone. Only have these blogs to tell my troubles to. Whatever did they do before blogs? Wrote novels I bet. There are few monsters I can't see as real people.
The clock is from Paris. Love the symbolism of time hidden by leaves, soon to be completely one with the scene. Stagnation. Stand still and you'll be buried.
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