greenstorm | Mmmmmf.

My bus went right through the heart of Chinatown tonight in the dusky evening under a deep greying blue sky that moved swiftly towards black. The shops were all open, their fronts spilling out baskets of pickled vegetables and dried fish and other things I couldn't recognise onto the sidewalk, so that you couldn't really tell where the shop ended and the sidewalk began under the awnings. Everything was lit brightly but not harshly, and occasionally there would be a ship of gifts, carved wood or bright paper like jewels against the only slightly more muted tones of the food shops.

There were people there, but I did not notice them.

I worked hard today, hard enough to sweat through most of it. It felt good, as if I'd accompplished something, though there was more to do than expected and so there is work tomorrow as well. I'd like to clean my house before the Juggler comes over tomorrow.

When I got home my pot (there are three small ones; two are the SO's, one is mine) had traces of dried pasta sauce in the bottom, so I could not begin my IV of miso soup immediately. It waits on the stove now, warming, finally.

I am active and alive today, and I will be very tired tonight. I can see that things are beautiful again. I am, as I said earlier, moving.