Only managed to take a couple of dull-ish photos around my loft the past two months because I've chosen the ANTISOCIAL route (typical) of getting through this crippling foot surgery: avoiding in-person social contact at the majority of costs. For the past eight weeks or so, my life has been as follows:
Attempting to shift around furniture whilst hopping on my now-buffer-than-ever-before right leg with my left leg bent at a perfectly ninety degree angle. Mostly just a framed Ol' Dirty Bastard & a humbling Pandora One to keep me from loneliness & instead transport me into a commendable solitude. Opening & closing wooden blinds to alternate between fresh & stale air as my ficklemindedness decides to smoke then not to smoke, to smoke then not to smoke, to smoke then not to smoke. Old nocturnal habits returning causing me to witness dawn with the heaviest of lids & wake just in time to welcome dusk. A neverending reel of Netflix instant watches & those distinct fire engine red envelopes greeting my mailbox every other day. Lights & shadows, literally & figuratively.
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