My impending mission is to FINISH READING SYLVIA PLATH
(yes, I decided to revert to my original McCarthy-reading plan
and save Blood Meridian for later).
I've also decided to maintain regular creative/reflective writing,
whether or not it is in my journal or right here.
Before me are fragmented clementine-peels; they smell deliciously
warm with a tinge of pungent acidity - I love to crinkle them between
my palms, to smear its smell into my pores...
Sweet, tender, and with ripe pulp that bursts at the bite to release
jets of juice - they explode as one like a nuclear chain reaction, particle
splitting particle, pulp splitting pulp...
