When the day is the same color of grey from morning to night, when no creature stirs and no wind blows, where even the trees appear motionless like a painting, I continue my life behind the windows and find myself struggling to maintain a relationship with anything beyond my warm sofa and my shining screens, often failing to do so. Monday begins again, and I made a choice in the week of the new moon to attempt to let the things that I fear wash over me, let them burn if they are to burn, but to keep my eyes open and my feet moving forward.