WRITING IS THINKING WITH YOUR FINGERS
My days are sandwiched in darkness. Every morning shines a damp and lambent greeting from a rain-streaked windowpane. The street outside glows wetly, it brightens slowly with the cloud cover as the sun comes up and pales everything to a lighter shade. As I drive to work, quietly humming to the split-splat of water on the windshield and the swish-swish as the silver ribbons are wiped and renewed from the glass, the streetlights are just turning off. I’ve been barely taking 15 or at the most 20 minutes for lunch lately, it’s been so busy and with the clouds hunkered...