Two years, no news

Two years. My only news is that there is no news, and I have come back specifically to say so, because nobody wrote this part down for me.

Steady, injects Sunday mornings out of pure ritual.

The strange part is not having a project any more. I had not understood how much I was enjoying having one.

Reduced to a maintenance dose. Same day, same fridge, less of it.

Nothing happened again. I am aware that is now the fourth month running I have written that, and I have decided it is the best sentence in this journal.

Sunday again next week.