The hang nail on my left hand has been holding my interest more than this blinking cursor. The newly blank wall behind me is also an object of distraction. My ancient wood bunk bed turned out to be infested with some kind of wood munching insect that my friend and I discovered when were sawing our way towards an under-bed-secret-hideout. We ended up cutting down the whole thing with the herculean help of my iron muscled grandmother. Now I feel like I sleep in a tea house being so low to the ground without a frame. But this wall, mmm. I haven't had blank space to work with for at least a year. My scanner is also out of commission and I have so many things to share that I can't substitute with words. My pineal gland is telling me it's day time. It, in fact, is not.
When I think of white walls I think of Angela and Emile's apartment. Clean. (Une Femme est une Femme)