Home again, home again, jiggity jig! 🙂
Back from the hospital in half-body cast/full bandages.
Prescribed morphine which is, sadly, doing nothing. But joyous nonetheless.
I AM BREATHING!
Watching the snow fall gently
in front of a cozy fire
while singed flesh falls in synchrony.
Aaaaah, winter in Cleveland.
HAHAHAHA
Sick.
Filed under diary, humor, imperfection, life, stupidity
Tagged as angels, blogging, combustion, diary, existentialism, fire, Janice J. Cunningham, Pratt, roasted nuts, singed flesh, survival, third-degree burns
My life, artwork, thoughts, and random blurbs in an ongoing stream of paintings, drawings, multimedia art, prose, poetry, journalism, and photography. Please enjoy, and all feedback very much appreciated!
