an old fashioned blog post

like those in the beginning. coming up with just about anything, about anything. or how we evolved as blogpost writers, prodding along. going with the feckless flow, and then some. sitting back, relaxing, dreaming. at times doing naff all, for the muse to feel welcome.

because, let's be honest: we need time and the sense of time to let the hunch unfold itself into existence. this weekend i walked a tiny loop in the neighbourhood, for i slotted myself to this tiny pocket of time, as if time itself became negligible. the best {short} walk! 

i covet memories of the abandoned skateboard rink, the fall-apart house at the bottom of horses street, the mossy path along the neglected meadow; passing two ancient cropper locals, contemplating an early and treacherous spring, as it near started pouring down. 

that kind of slot-of-time. hopping inside from the chill air, throwing a hearty burger on the hot skillet and gulping it down, while gazing at the world going by on the backlit screen, anticipating museum night in brussels. today now, i'm doing zilch. i hope the same for you.