I carry a large bag. I have to. It carries the hopes and dreams that are too damn heavy to drag around on my person. Oh, and some tablets and stuff. Paper. Not stone.

Anyway, I think that the bag is growing. It looks the same on the outside, but on the inside, I think it’s been possessed by Mary Poppins, because I can never find anything in it anymore.

It’s become cavernous. Whenever I need to go in for something, I feel as if I should put on a headlamp.

I wonder if my nephew Noah will loan me his.