Koan

I just wrote a long piece that I can't bring myself to publish.  Now I don't have time nor energy to pursue another piece.  I'm flushing the one down the toilet and keeping this one short, like a Koan.

Walking through the forest,
I see no trees.
The girls went home.

Not really a koan in substance.  It meets the metric requirements, though.

The name of the storage company is very clever.  You can only keep small, compact things there, I guess.  It was an unexpected find in the middle of cracker country.  How many of their clients get it?

I am being silly.  Micro-aggressive.

My down the toilet piece was partly about Ronan Farrow.  What a mess.  There are reasons why people do what they do.

I guess.