what forest? all I see are trees.
The house is emptying out.
I've gone through more boxes of stuff, more old art, more THINGS than i can keep track of. I feel like a vigilante- i'm being much, much more harsh with what stays, what goes, than i ever have before.
Things are starting to get through, though. Seeing so many dusty old memories, leaving soon: these turn all the other little parts of the day into blossoming explosions of emotion, sensation, memory. At the same time i am tossing the old pieces of my life away with an iron heart; i am force feeding the sensations, sights, sounds, (and, yes, smells) of san francisco into my cranium.
So i don't forget.
So, when in some god forsaken place, i can hark back to my home, in my mind. I can be here, but not here. My city. My home.
Every little thing..
I just saw a picture, of a wet driveway. a house with a wet driveway. and somehow, all i could think: rain? where will i be the next time i see that?
woof.
This is all too much. I cannot see the end, i can only try to listen when people say it's near.
God, i will miss you all, so much. And you, too, San Francisco. I love you, all.
I've gone through more boxes of stuff, more old art, more THINGS than i can keep track of. I feel like a vigilante- i'm being much, much more harsh with what stays, what goes, than i ever have before.
Things are starting to get through, though. Seeing so many dusty old memories, leaving soon: these turn all the other little parts of the day into blossoming explosions of emotion, sensation, memory. At the same time i am tossing the old pieces of my life away with an iron heart; i am force feeding the sensations, sights, sounds, (and, yes, smells) of san francisco into my cranium.
So i don't forget.
So, when in some god forsaken place, i can hark back to my home, in my mind. I can be here, but not here. My city. My home.
Every little thing..
I just saw a picture, of a wet driveway. a house with a wet driveway. and somehow, all i could think: rain? where will i be the next time i see that?
woof.
This is all too much. I cannot see the end, i can only try to listen when people say it's near.
God, i will miss you all, so much. And you, too, San Francisco. I love you, all.