No processing. Shot in colour too. I like blurs. Of all kinds.

That is how the day began after insufficient sleep. All the feelings were in-between kind of feelings and choices were difficult. Certainty vanished like smoke from a burnt-out candlestick. I have harnessed such moods to write poetry before. Now I have forgotten all about it.

The day saw a major slump in the middle and things did not look good. But one gathers oneself together in such situations and the only way it can move is towards improvement. Times like these bring with themselves an acuteness of sensation. Every little thing becomes beautiful. You aren't gliding over them any more and your footprints are deep.

Just as the way is with things-we-don't-want-to-do-but-have-to-do, a lot of work got done in the final hours of the day. Tomorrow shall be perceived in context.

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