I am sitting here outside watching the slow moving of many trees.  I was looking for a short story I wrote over fifteen years ago.   It was futuristic about a time that right now feels like it is that time…I will look for it again and try to put it in here..A few years after writing it I had found it and read it again, and started another chapter..I found that but I need/want to find the first one…I think it was written by hand in a notebook?  I remember the taste of writing it, the story just kept unravelling from somthing small to something I could not stop.  I am not a writer, not one for fancy words and my mind was never good at quoting anything or anyone…

When I worked in offices as a young person, answering phones and announcing things on an intercom either at my jobs at printing companies or in the garment center…there was always time to just write my own stuff.  I woud write what I felt about anything that came into my head.  I even wrote a few murder type mysteries being influence by listening to the radio (under my pillow at night)..the reader a Sidney Gross reading Guy de Maupassant or Poe…when I should have been asleep.  Must have been Sunday nights, as I never looked forward to any days in high school…I dreaded each day..but somehow survived it..  So much has changed since then..I am not sure who that person was..but she is sometimes here with me.    I found it today and will put it in when I can…