So 17.
That's how many ways I have learned to learn from what I did not know.
That's how many days must pass before I can truthfully say I have proof to show, that this has changed me.
Change is a funny thing. Can we ever say we have changed if we did not know that we were? Can a concept be grasped if it was never really formed, grown or being?
At heart I am green, a babushka wrapped in cloth and the smell of sugar crisping in the glass baking tin that has become my thoughts. A basket of questions, with a whole that never seems to stop dropping or retrieving questions. A hole in the wall, that's where my truth comes to find me curled in a cup of coffee.
17 days, and I write.
