Through the rough and rigid cracks, shine light.

It’s Friday night, they say everything’s going to be A L R I G H T.

But it’s never quite right until S U N L I G H T.

Ironic, to seek light [fresh, new light] with such vigor. And yet, F A T E has shaped me into such an insomniac, spending the bulk of my waking hours staring straight into the face of darkness.

I hope my daughters never have trouble sleeping.

When all else fails, drink seasonal beverages and eat Ghiradelli brownies?

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