the sky could be blue, i don't mind

What storm today. Grit and garbage cartwheeling, coming at teeth like missiles - but the wind outdoes, who cares? And I was clucking tongue, sigh, just the perfect day for long, long bus-ride and longer walk to end in hot tea and fried chicken, with your stories, but you haven't been writing so long. Everything else came. And like the gust, you did too.

Tonight's almost too beautiful to be borne.