Two years, no news

Late, and writing anyway.

Reduced to a maintenance dose. Same day, same fridge, less of it.

Steady.

Wednesdays are just Wednesdays now.

The strange part is not having a project any more. I had not understood how much I was enjoying having one.

Nothing happened again. I am aware that is now the fourth month running I have written that, and I have decided it is the best sentence in this journal.

Sleeping, at last.