Of Emotion and Experience

13,048 Days Alive

1.15 Miles Walked

Reffie and I went to the Van Gogh Experience at The Dalí Museum in St. Petersburg today. I was moved to literal tears, at one point. Not by the images themselves, but by the words. His words; his own struggles and emotions in his own hand.

I don’t think it was actually his handwriting, but I’m not sure. But the words rang with a certain weight that I utterly understand.

In ten years, the man painted more than 2,000 pieces. Two thousand. It gives me hope that in my days where I’m not wrung out as a day-old washrag, I have hope still to accomplish things.

I’m going to go meditate. I need to come down from the emotions of today.

Before I go, though, crab cakes are pretty good, still not sure if I like lobster, and I do like fried octopus (but I knew that!) and Reffie’s Momma and her companion Mr. John are amazing, interesting people who have lived long lives and I how I get the chance to make more memories with them.

Okay. Now to meditate and go to bed.

Take your meds, folks!

Image is of black text on a white wall: “I don’t know anything with certainty, but seeing the starts makes me dream.” Vincent Van Gogh

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