Yes, it’s a new year. I feel unsettled. Still cloudy-minded, striving for what, I don’t know. To recapture what can’t be recaptured, to move to an imagined place of deeper meaning.
Still making. It’s very satisfying.
Still struggling to learn drawing and water color.
Still trying to move every day. Walking or yoga. We walked miles every day in New Orleans. No tracker on my phone, so I have no records. We rented the blue bikes one afternoon. Rode out to Audubon Park and saw the monstrous evocative live oaks. And the river mostly covered with white fog.
Should I track the books I’m reading in 2019? I’ve never done that before. Here or on Good Reads?