I wake up early in the morning—usually around six, unless I can’t sleep at all; though recently that happens on rare occasions—and prepare some flatbread dough to bake, then do a pinch of yoga for my ageing spine, and finally sit by the window to read, which I try to do for at least an hour, but there is only so much my temporal lobe and Broca’s area can muster. Once I retire from the reading spot, it’s time to write a line or two before I fill my belly and start another nine-to-five as a proud member of the remote task force. Lunchtime starts with a second yoga session, then comes light aliment and a few pages to peruse over before returning to work. The evening chore that some call dinner marks the arrival of crepuscule with all the fun I’ve been dying to indulge in but am too spent to pursue. And then it’s time to find comfort in the arms of Hypnos, who may one day introduce me to his brother—if I’m lucky.
More words to ponder at maciejmodzelewski.com
hidden pilcrow 