Journeys

I’ve returned to Portland for the weekend, coming through a cotton gray fog. The world had been reduced from endless horizons to a sphere no larger than a few miles. The fog wasn't a fabric blocking things out, but an empty canvas. I was in the center of a small world passing through gray space.

It’s early morning now, everything is black and quiet. My sleep schedule is off. So is my caffeine schedule. Another odyssey awaits, I must venture out into the dark in search of good coffee and cream.