My word of the year is TRIUMPH. On the roof last night I said, "Fuck you, 2011!" and leaned into Chris' body, feeling the weight of his heavy pea coat on my form. I am too tired and too ravaged right now to do anything meaningful. Psychosis comes and goes, and so do tears. I downloaded some things to read on my iPad. (Recommendations welcome.)
Gratitude: for silk pajamas, for our heat dish, for love.