For months, I waited for August 29, the marker of a year here. I'd stop writing in this space, I had decided. At least, I'd stop writing every day. For a year, except for the few times when I missed because I was out and couldn't reach a connection or because I fell asleep with the computer in front of me, I was here. Perhaps obsessively, one could argue. I was going to rest, I reasoned with myself, finally, removing the obligation I felt to this process.
But last night I missed it, and as I worked on Confederacy of Dunces with Miles this afternoon and then, tonight, walked through Kaifaqu with Sunny, I knew I wanted to come back here. Another year of writing then? Nobody should be surprised.