{my topography}

The shape of daily life.

Self Portrait: Psychology of a confined space

Like a flock of birds, I sometimes feel myself alighting into the slumbering weight of my body, just as the morning light first falls across the windowsill. Abruptly, I am there again, in our bed with my arm pressed up against his back, sleep heavy, and tingling. Trailing the gossamer of dreams, it takes a […]

« go back