The word prompts over at 3WW are frequent, open and someday.
The movers are here, moving like molasses, but we’ve engaged in conversation (“Boy that newspaper is really gong to suck now that you’re leaving” bless them) and I sprung for lunch, so my shite is in good hands.
I feel the need to Haiku.
Someday never comes,
when frequent fears close the mind,
be open to chance.
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