…por decirlo así; dulces y tristes son y huele todo a pasado y a cosas que no volverán.
I keep seeing things more clearly. Getting unmoored. (That is a good image.) Using all my resources to attack and destroy the person I had been while still attempting to function as that person, as was required. Wanting to move past this disaster scene and not being allowed, somehow.
I so wish I had, but it is too late now and I lack means. I hope I can at least stop the destruction and get re-moored. I still feel as though I had been living in a concentration camp since about 1991.
I will write my LASA abstract, and do parking and time sheets, and be sure about Fall book orders. And I still have grades to make. The current paper will not contain a great deal of original research but will hope to synthesize some current ideas in an interesting way.