I'm sick. Like up-half-the-night-with-a-racking-cough, python-swallowed-my-head-congestion kind of sick. Gross. And I'm about to head off to six straight hours of rehearsal.
Wish me luck. As long as I make it through the next two and a half days I'll be ok.
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You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
-Mary Oliver
-Mary Oliver
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