Monday morning. I need to keep my mind still. Otherwise, everything that can go wrong will go wrong.
I start my day with a cezve of coffee. I opened a new package of the coffee I brought from home last month. Strong smell of the ground beans. Life-affirming. I wait patiently for the coffee to bubble to the surface. I taught myself to be mindful when turning off the stove. That way I don’t question myself later.
On the way work, the tram door opens at a stop and the smell of freshly baked goods from a bakery enters our carriage. It makes me miss home.
I lit a mint candle last night while practicing an evening flow. Breathing has been difficult lately. On a bad day, my head feels like a storm of lightning bolts.
I returned to Luther. For the accent, for Elba, for the London gloom, for the shades of grey and brown with a shock of the red bus passing through. For the colors.
And you know what that’s like… other people’s lives seem so much better than ours. More interesting, more attractive, more alive. The way he sees it, they got something that he needs so, he’s just going to take it from them. No, he’s never going to stop, he’s just going to keep doing it and doing it because he’ll never get back whatever he’s lost. None of us ever do.