Well, with Covid-19 leaving everyone in an out and out panic there is a finite silver lining in the lack of people in public spaces. Why hide away in a corner when you can study in the middle of chinook mall and not be overwhelmed by the noise of the area. Now my getting distracted by the smell of Cinnzeo is another story and well horrible for my health my stomach now sits contentedly full of cinnamon deliciousness.
Today my primary goal is writing practice with a lot of low risks and no risk writing I need to do. I’m avoiding the hell that awaits me tomorrow with the real sum of my work.
How to form a narrative out of something that doesn’t have a natural narrative structure is something that still befuddles me. Maybe simply writing more stories until it comes naturally is the answer?
I was just approached by a homeless man, although you wouldn’t know it from looking at him. Standing around 5′ 8″ tall with softer features and a slight tan to his skin. He was friendly, asked me for a coffee. On his head was a black beanie, with a black felt jacket and a light dress shirt, one would easily mistake him for a businessman if not for the tone of his posture. Neither afraid nor proud dissapointment was clear on his face when he realized I wasn’t going to be buying him the coffee he wanted, he moved on without objection or complaint, but slightly put out. I almost regret not buying him a coffee.