flown like paper birds in the sky.

not to keep bringing up the peter carey as a habit but yes. that part in oscar and lucinda when oscar says the beautiful, naive thing, the dream, he declares it freely, arms out and waving even--and lucinda straightens in herself, and she speaks inside herself. and she says silently something about. we are treading on very dangerous ground. or what we have here. oh, you must be careful. it's like that. the carefulness and the bubbling joy you smother, keep folding over and over in your heart. so many creases and your hands, your hands.

i wish to be better alive.

/

i'm sick of feeling cooped up in here, with just tedious forms of work. slick hours oozing. ...so i'm going to take a walk now, and forage for something warm to eat, and maybe do some other small errands.