24th February 2006

I. I killed a cold just as it began but the universe threw it right back at me. The universe doesn't like me today.
It sends me forebodings.
It stubs out my coffee-induced, project-ending hyperness and gives me emptiness in my stomach, withdrawal symptoms.
I think I don't like the universe today. But

II. I step out and the wind rushes at me and holds me. It forces me to smile, to like it. I begin to miss it as soon as I get in the car, and when I get out a stray raindrop kisses my cheek. Inside,

III. My goosebumped self needs escape. And even with a heart full of sadness when we walk through the market, my clothes move against my skin, I inhale the freshly-painted markaz, listen to the music from Spiral and find a spring in my step. And still

IV. The persistent little sadangry spot returns and sits in my stomach. And though the raindrops leave my glasses specked and alive,
I decide that I don't like the universe today.