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it’s monday. the beginning of summer. time feels sloppy, almost shapeless, as if it has carelessly slipped out of its own measure, spilling over the tall grass fields with the breath of wind. i feel it morphing, changing within itself, yet partly always remaining hidden, like the 13th stone in a sand garden. like the dark side of the moon.
i went to work as usual. lost. disoriented. sometimes i feel as though i forget myself every morning. bit by bit. over time, what remains is a well-erased sketch on thick canvas. ghostly outlines shining through. some are gone forever. some will be retraced once again.
from here
life after 21 does not move anymore. i knew it. something changed back then. the world is covered in amber now.