Here

I'm stranded. There are no buses. My driver's license was taken away
quite a while ago. Someday I will move too slowly, forget to look, slip,
or simply glance over what is instinctive in others. Then I will be eliminated
without so much as a gasp or moment to say my defense. Even minuscule things
such as being left handed skews you in favor of death. With my eyes closed,
I turn in circles. And I am left-handed.

There's hardly any grass here. It's a shabby place. I am both restless and
depressed. At times I feel Jonathan is making me undergo some perverse version
of the rest cure that doctors recommended to hysterical Victorian women.

I don't like the sunshine except in the mornings. So I get the downstairs
room with the sunlight in the morning and he gets the top floor.

The sunlight makes me sneeze.

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