The caffeine is buzzing in my chest, or is it just massive amounts of inhaled dense smoke?
I spent the evening in someone's backyard. There was a fire pit/instrument. The ashes flaked into the breeze like a delicate snowfall. It looked pretty, but it's hard on the lungs. My lungs.
I left early: A group of writers and actors going through two scripts. They seemed real nice. Too soon to make any hard-line thoughts.
But the snowflakes killed it for me. My chest feels like it's on fire.
I hope this fire burns elsewhere. To refresh a parched land. To strengthen a new crop. To start anew.
