I am restless. Profoundly restless.
I’m sure it has something to do with a new year approaching.
And I’ve been reading a lot. Reading opens my eyes, opens me. I see things and see things differently. Reading incites reflection and births desires. Some books are just that transformative. I feel like if I stopped reading, maybe some of the restlessness would depart. But perhaps I would also be deprived of something wonderful by abandoning these texts. And besides, I can’t un-know whatever I have already read.
I am re-imagining my life.
I am frustrated.
I feel the need to go, to move, to push, to take a risk.
And I’m not sure which way to go or what to do.
There is something more, but I don’t know what it is.
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