I get carried away.

Sometimes I see things that make me really angry. I don't know why.

Then my temper fuses, I snap, I go on a walk, I read Russian literature on the porch shirtless, I smell dry-cured bacon being cooked in the kitchen, (believe me, this bacon should be enough to make even a god flash a guilty grin), I think about thinking, about March 5th 11:00 pm, about Miss Angry, about being a farm-hand, and then I see a painting and I pray that everything will be alright.