the monsoon breeze through my bedroom window

The waft is continuous, smooth and gentle, making me more aware of myself, from the soles of my feet, to my knees, the back of my palm, to the wetness in my hair. Yet the same thoughts set sail. I should have started this Trinity music thing fifteen years ago. Should have read more and known better - all stacks are growing. The movies still lying unwatched, only dusted once a month.