Sunday, September 13

I am done. Done done. I could not find my pencil case, but I am done. Almost unpacked and thinking of puppy. My breath does not come from my lungs, it is mostly developed through the outside layer of my skin - I have forgotten how to breathe deeply. Here, there is not deep breath, not allowed, no such thing, just keep going with shallow ones, for as long as you can. But in an exciting way of course, I feel I am suffocating. New things, new all, new everything. Almost like a dream, I do not recognise my life. And when I do, it is already so far away, I have to say goodbye. That is ok. I can look from afar and wave. I will fold the boxes carefully into the green bag and knock on your door. I will make rare steak and avocado salad and chat about nothing. You know, that man in the tent with the mosquitoes that wanted to have sex with you. And I will wake up not knowing what to do again and wondering where I am going. In a straight line, I guess, like you said.

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