I started running my mouth about this yesterday, and I feel like I should come to some conclusion, or be working toward one in some clear, tangible way. I don’t think I’m ready to, though. It’s like I can’t move.

It’s raining here tonight. The rain’s falling in muffled taps against the side of my house. And it’s falling in a tinny ping on my bedroom window. The two sounds blend like voices chanting. No words, but a lot of meaning still. I think I’m supposed to hear something like an answer to the question I’m asking, the question I always ask. Like there’s some wisdom in the harmony of those misty voices.

Maybe it will rain all night.