strange, surreal world it is, living with the effects of a thyroid condition. Feeling weak, but that creative type of weak where things appear less vibrant and are somehow given to rests in time. More drawn out, more specific. As if I'm suddenly in a Picasso painting, able to navigate the inner workings of the artist, or of the complex arrangements of particles and chemicals at once united into the paint. Unity. And fibres of silence. And rest, so enticing. Stalled air. Large cool glasses of water. Vested in feathery bed, with best friend purring. Need some energy soon. Homeopath will visit next week. Feel like I'm typing a telegram. Stop.
posted by MissWanda at 5:32 p.m.
3 Comments:
Full stop.
Hey Wanda, have you been tested for celiac? Fatique, upset tummy, hard time breathing, lightheadedness, and brain fog were all making me feel like the end was near. I haven't had bread or beer, or anything with gluten after I found it was destroying me from the inside. Even if not for you, it's a good thing to get off of, friends have noted improvement after my proselytizing convinced them to try. Hope you feel better.
Dear Brian, thank you, I will look into it.
How's the whittling in Cape Breton? Jealous of your landscape.
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