Diary of a writing project. Day 177: Singing words – nine of fourteen –

I forgot.

For about ten minutes, yesterday, I forgot about the whole pandemic and its dreadful consequences for every soul on Earth. I was so surprised, it stuck with me.

After yet another bad night of sleep, I thought heck, that was a goooood ten minutes. I liked it. I want another one. I want many others ones like that.

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Diary of a writing project. Day 176: Under a blanket – eight of fourteen + one month –

In order to help give everybody else in this house a good night of sleep, I pulled a blanket over my head, hunched over the screen and start typing.

A laptop shines brights in the darkest hours of the night.

And the floors creaks like the gates of hell opened.

In order to help give everybody else in this house a good night of sleep, I pulled a blanket over my head, hunched over the screen and start typing.

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Diary of a writing project. Day 175: Bright sunshine, yummy Spring – seven of fourteen –

Now is really not the time for a writing meltdown!

Is it the over-tiredness? Is it the sun, rising so beautiful that it seems nothing can no longer be beautiful?
Or the gigantic pandemic going the size of titans?

Today is a Sunday in March.

And every word I write makes me wanna cry all the sadness in the world.

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