My cousin sent me an email this morning:
"She posted one last entry about how well-laid she was, and then she was never heard from again!" [Your Mom doesn't check your blog, surely?]
Yes, too damned busy and nothing coherent to say. Working working, fretting about school and momentum, enjoying my life, drinking too much good wine, trying to put some shape to a distributed life.
It was a year ago this week I took possession of this flat. So much frenzy that was, so many pages now flickered through the year. It still doesn't exactly feel like "home," but it feels like *my* place. And a jump-off point to whatever comes next.
Feh, more work to do, more words words words later.
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