(Transcription of a note scribbled on the back of one of my homework handouts from mid-winter, 15-16. It comes as no surprise to anyone who knows me.)
I just realized how much I crave change. As a high pressure system settles above us, and everyone comments cheerfully on the calm blue skies, I begin watching the branches of bare trees, waiting, willing them to shudder. The movement of air, time, people, life, captured in the rushing pressure change of the world.
Maybe it is my summer cravings returning, as they always do in the short days, yearning for the thunderheads and violent unpredictability of a world at the whim of temperature, moisture, pressure. Maybe this is why I am writing about a windy world.
Comfort still terrifies me.