Fatigue. Physically.
I yawned. I leaned my head back against the headrest of my wheelchair. I must be tired. I believe I am.
I think I should stop writing now.
Fatigue. Physically.
I yawned. I leaned my head back against the headrest of my wheelchair. I must be tired. I believe I am.
I think I should stop writing now.
The blog has not gone.
Quiet. Writer. Preoccupied.
My creative periods come in spurts, between bouts of symptoms.
My book is my focus. I am writing my calling card.
In this moment, between symptoms, I can be intensely productive.
I am on disability. But, I no longer believe my condition should hold me back.
My book, if she sells, will be evidence I can earn my own keep.
Silence is the foundation on which all noise is built.
Sacred Space.
Within, I work.