Perhaps shamefully for me weighing myself daily is a necessity. I speak here of both visceral and cerebral assessments. Indeed until I have fulfilled this devotion I am as undernourished as having gone without breakfast. The process invigorates and strengthens me to the point of allowing what I consider an unblemished address of the Universe. Every day is a new day. It helps to begin with a purge, an evacuation of yesterday's moss and debris. I hesitatingly acknowledge that the sinfulness from which I require relief captures the shallowness of the realm I inhabit.
"Listening to this song is like listening to a story only your own mind can tell you."
After my matutinal bicycle ride I expunged myself in the sea. The sudden umbrage of a cloud brought pensiveness, speedily replaced by the flare up of the melting sun. I contemplated the privilege wrought by my parents. My father's death marked the start of the awakening; my mother's death crystallized the realization. Last night Leah proclaimed her filial devotion. It recalled the dynamism of the Glass family - Franny and Zooey - of JD Salinger.