Alive in my own stench

Indeed, I am alive, but acting as though I am not. I’m uncomfortable writing right now. After standing too close to a sandwich shop this afternoon, I think I’ve taken on the stench of half-cooked bread. I need a shower.

When the exercise of writing offers less in the way of introspection, I’ll return to this page. For today, however, I must be content in in knowing that I probably wouldn’t stink if it weren’t for baking bread. And I probably would write if it didn’t scare me so much.