i've taken three days off, my illness has forced me to rest up so i went to the beach and walked along the sand bare feet, the surf flat and gentle sun warmed my skin. i felt good out there, clearing my head from all the silly nonsense stuffed inside. i stopped for lunch and enjoyed my food chewing down slowly savouring the taste like some mindfulness exercise. the light is kind, soft light filtered and gentle, ah i do love my terrible beach. 
later some terrible pains in my chest seized me, i don't know what caused them, coughing fits maybe. i couldn't tell if it was a heart attack or what, how do you know? anyways i breathed it out and somehow managed to manage the pain, although it left me quite disturbed. i don't get ill often, but i am psychically responding so my issues at work, stress manifestation. days off and away are what i need, perspective. i'm going to start writing about my work soon, just kinda a few short chronological tales, charting my history as a social worker type. it would be compelled into a single volume, a thirty year history of what i have experienced. think i would call it 'the truth is stranger than fiction.'