1 a.m. Tired

It's been four weeks since I flew out of Lima.  Obviously, a lot has changed since then.  But frankly, a lot hasn't.

Brosef's coming home tomorrow as long as the ash doesn't hold him back.  Dad's starting another writing sesh.  And Mom and Stef hold down the fort like the troopers that they are.  I keep eating my bananas and almonds and ruining my eyesight.

Speaking of which, I'm almost done with the book I started before leaving for Peru and had to postpone until getting back.  Ben read it.  A Sense of the World.  I just got to the part where he'd officially become the most traveled person in the world.  Lieutenant Holman.  A blind man.  And the book I just got from the library to read next is the one Nick recommended recently, Crashing Through—about another blind man.  Maybe I'm unknowingly preparing myself to become blind.

Life is beautiful.  Isn't it?  Good, good, good.  Right, right, right.  Now, how can I make it even better?

Fiends will never see

Unless they sit with me

Collecting sand

King of my land

I look inside

Night is to hide

Gone are the knights

Losing their fights

Islands and rocks

Accelerating clocks

Right as rain