Yesterday, I sat on the bus, my head against the window and the first flakes of snow eddying past. I could clearly see the winter unfurl before me, picture the snowbanks along the footpaths, the pockmarked dirt that coats the bus windows all winter. And I just thought, here we go again.

But my week was measured out in even spoonfuls. Nothing much to complain or remark upon. A few breakthrough ideas, a sudden song that got caught in my throat, pulling up memories of a four-year old me. But I liked it, the sharp tang of those feelings on these blurred days.

I have a few things to do this weekend. I really want to spend some time out in the world; I can feel winter's hibernating instinct creeping over me and I don't want to give into it. So, I'll be stretching it out at yoga and wrapping up for neighbourhood walks.

What about you? Hope you have a lovely one!
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