Nothing new here.
This window has become more than just the living room window. It has become my regular viewpoint into the surrounding nightmare.
The migration of the dogs is my only means of marking the times of the day.
The luxury of homemade is a necessity.
This chair of my grandmothers has been redefined as an office, a dining room table and a bar stool.
During the days, I have the bed to myself – if I want it.
But typically, I just end up back here.
The beauty entices me, but it’s not the beauty that is the enemy.
I am uncertain if the haziness of the days hinders or helps the situation.
Only time will tell.