I’ve got hope sitting here. It may be too warm for my taste and my stomach might be as queasy as its ever been, but there’s hope. I won’t say the future looks bright, but rather the present I am in - I paint it that way. No, I strip away the layers, layers I don’t need,

peeling of dry pieces, rather, dry sheets of skin, somehow my freckles still remain, though they do decrease in numbers.