Stop and write about “something that I really didn’t want to think about” if you wish. Or you could [[a mind to meander|go back to where the river begins]]. ---- I’m thinking of the snow under my feet, my shoes that have holes in the backs of the soles but not the front, the fact that I might buy some new ones today. Old friends and romanticizing the past, [[she stopped on the spot and relaxed|seeing everything through a filter]], hovering around the two poles and never the equator. The weather affects my brain more than I would like to admit. I’m thinking about my dream and how I don’t like thinking about dreams because where do you go? Do I truly believe it’s true at the moment? Should I not be holding this much empathy for my distorted dream self? I’m drinking tea, earl gray, light brown. I drink it with water, but it’s the best with frothed milk, foamy on the top, and two pumps of vanilla. I’m not thinking about time, how much is left of the hour, how little of how much. I’m not thinking about memories of West Allis, the ice cream shop run by the old man who sold us 50 cent cones. They were chocolate dipped and American girl doll sized, so our little selves were enamored with them and we’d take a walk, down the block then back home, and play with our dolls after. I’m not thinking about what I’m going to do today, or tomorrow or the next, all the texts I still have to respond to and my room I still have to clean. I’m not thinking about music or my short attention span with it, how I keep searching for songs that fit my current mood and then discard them the next day. I’m thinking about how I only have one minute left of this exercise and I want an ending that will sound conclusive, a great closing line. I don’t think I have one so I’ve decided I’m not thinking about it.