After staring at the ink-stained steel mechanics of my Olympia SM-3 for a long, stony occasion, I was jarred back into existence as she hollared at the sound of a loud truck. A distance signal received over the waves this morning. Now I was sitting with Lulu, and a luke warm cup of coffee, on the bed. Fading into the waves, I felt the loop reset; tearing off the last calendar page only to replace it with a new collection of numbered pages. Seemingly important collections of transactions to dive into and repel from. Back into the wave.
