domingo

I noticed today that my left eye is queer, my scalp dry, and fingers crooked. And more: my right eye is fair, my scalp covered with curls, and the crooks of my fingers are character, each digit fitting nicely into the other.

Sweeping brings comfort. The sound of the broom hairs on the laminate floor soothes. I swerve left then right, to my dominant side, take a right then left step back, and swerve again. This continues for some time, depending on the dimensions of the room. My own personal Zen garden.

Dust becomes dirt gathered to form Nazca lines, less intricate but as mysterious in origin. Where did all this dirt come from? I just swept two days before.

I enjoy hunting mosquitos but realize that they are not in season. So I continue to sweep.

These are the thoughts this morning and I am good.