At certain times I like to see a "sign" giving some comfort about what lies ahead. It doesn't have to be something "in your face", actually I doubt that it ever is, but it turns out to be mostly, if not always, as marginal as a breath of air. A sign nevertheless.
Yesterday seemed to be a culmination of about 10 days of such nonsense. Ten or so days of being sick and hopeful, marginal yet flush with game. The bottom line rests in being afoot in the swamp; feeling the ground and not touching it. Good grief.
It's difficult to express how topsy-turvy things seem, as if what's real and what's imagined are simply intertwined. It isn't a pleasant thought nor is it possible sometimes to sort through it. Logic isn't in the cards right now. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps never.
I don't know.
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