no comments on my last two posts, i must be getting really boring. i admit i've had something like writer's block since i really started to face moving home. it's like my creative sap has moved inward to protect my heart, like your blood does when exposed to extreme cold. i'm still experiencing everything, i just haven't been able to express much.
tonight smells like snow, but it's only smoky and cool. it feels close and safe like snowy nights, too. in any city, some nights feel dangerous, and you hurry home with the key ready, but when everything is covered in a heavy white shadow, the peace feels inviolable.
i meander to the monthly recycling spot, listening to the crickets gurgling the air. i leave a big bag of clothes i've decided to part with. that's always a hard decision for me because clothes are so personal, they have so much history, but it's time to let go. i hold onto things too diligently, which is a burden when you move as much as i do. i've moved 27 times that i know about. hopefully i can find a place to stay one of these days.