allotted aloneness

when writing mostly looks like reading

circles of light dance across the room, and i have hours and hours—i no longer have any real understanding of time like this—is it linear? seasonal? is it even time at all?

i do know this here is a temporary space—as quickly as it comes it will go. it is a space in-between mothering, both affected by and slowly leading back into it. a space with defined …