Speechless

São Miguel, little green Azores.

Okay, more brown-black than green. Wiki lied.

I swore and swore and swore that this post would have real, actual text strewn about everywhere, real written stuff. Proper words and everything, even whole sentences, after what feels like centuries of silence. Ambitious plans, I made.

And now, sitting in my cabin after a day of painting signs on large, white, missile-shaped GPS receivers, carpentry and screw-drivery and hole-drill-ery, climbing up and down rickety stairs wearing blindingly orange coveralls, profuse sweating, excessive email checking and Googling strange things, I'm left without one sensible or interesting thing to say. My sole purpose in rambling thus far has been to convince myself that I've done the daily verbal spew I promised I'd start doing. Box ticked. A-okay. More like D-minus-not-okay.

But it's a start. The middle will also happen. Soonly. Tomorrow, I swear.