home and breathing

Finding oneself is bloody hard work.

Not that I'm not myself in my daily life, pottering around in the shop, stopping by the grocery shop for bananas and eggs on my way home, listening to the chatter in the changing room before volleyball practice.

It's life and it's mine and I need it. But it's the real world, and I'm only at home among dreams. Whether I believe in them or not.

So I have to come home and look out over the bay, power up the laptop, and breathe deeply.