I’ve started drinking St John’s Wort Tea again. Maybe I’ll get the weird dreams, but anything’s better than dreaming about work. I found myself travelling back and forth along Hoddle St in a daze. Coming up Punt Hill, I wondered where the words went. They used to come easier. Never without a struggle, but easier. Now, it’s like my mouth doesn’t work anymore. It’s all just standard call and response, typing in terminal windows, waiting for the sun to go down.