Isn't that a nice scene? Smooth water, still boats, quiet and peaceful. Like a nice baby-blue and orange dawn on a warm summer morning.
Isn't that a nice scene? Smooth water, still boats, quiet and peaceful. Like a nice baby-blue and orange dawn on a warm summer morning.
Pretend it's not about 20°.
Woke with dreams of tragedy. Again. You know, (don't you?) the kinda dreams you get when you postpone grieving, the kinda dreams you can't really remember (can you?) because they're filled with emotional pain, and you decided long ago (didn't you?) to pretend there were no such things as broken hearts in this universe. Stepping over pieces of your heart...
The coarse skeletal muscles have a built-in capacity for postponement called anaerobic respiration (I think). When they work really hard, they use more oxygen than they get--kinda like people spending money around Christmas--creating an oxygen-debt which must later be repayed. Not like Cardiac muscle which is made for a continuous rapid cycle; work-rest-work, with enough constant blood flow to keep up with its needs. It doesn't like to be put-off. It gets lots of blood, so it has a gushy, gelatinous texture, but it's very tough and difficult to tear or pull apart.
So, if you accidentally step on a piece of your heart, you're going to slip and break your head. Then, when you get your head fixed and get back home, you will decide to either put all the pieces finally back together, or keep tiptoeing around them--only more carefully than before.
Either way works fine. Except for dreams.
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