I want to sit and think and write and read and drink coffee and hide from the world. I want to be in the world among people with no fear or concern for a virus or such.
I want to laugh and I want to weep.
I want to fix the things that are wrong with my house and I want a new house.
I want to wake up from this funk and I want to sleep. I want to smile and I want to grimace.
I want to say I told you so and I want to hope for better things. I want to be right.
I want to be acknowledged. I want to make a contribution.
I want to shout and I want to pray. I want to sing and I want to mourn.
My own Ecclesiastes moment is here. Now. And vanity of vanities, all is vanity. Empty. Nothing. Chasing after the wind. A time to and a time to not.
Sound and fury, signifying nothing.
