The rice pancake batter that I set yesterday had not fermented until this morning. I set the batter on the girdle, anway!
The pancakes turned out like pattys.
I looked outside my window, while working on the rice batter and the now pancake/pattys.
I thought about all I had written yesterday, about the poetry in imperfections.
Sometime, before all of this, everything that was going wrong seemed so negative. I had a handle on nothing.
Things were slipping apart.
But once I looked out of the window, and thought of the poetry in imperfections, everything began to come together.
I have lost the handle on the argument that I was trying to make on a paper that is long overdue. I still have no handle.
Perhaps life is like this kind of whiteboard, where things get written and then get erased and then get overwritten or underwritten.
Who knows? For now, I am trying to seek poetry in every bit of imperfection, hoping that the imperfections will turn into productive, beautiful, somethings as I keep writing along!