Currently listening to: A Perfect Circle - "Three Libras"


On the last night, Erika stood at the window that opened into the balcony and looked onto the distant sea, the hills, and the city reposing between them. "Y ou know, we will see each other again. I will be back, at one point sooner or one point later." With a sigh she observed the buildings in a final and desperate hope of registering all she could so as to never forget it. As she listened to the sonata that the cars and the city life were improvising, a tear rolled from her eye while she repeated, "We will see each other again."

Erika closed the blinds, and for one moment she thought she could hear the city append a vibrant and imperious, "Or else!"

Currently listening to: Alexi Murdoch - "Orange Sky"


Time sprints and unravels, and there are no expected tangles. There never were.

The Perseid Meteor Shower's peak is past-- it was cloudy, and some of we exhausted-but-willing-to-forsake-sleep ones were faintly disappointed.

Life goes on, meteor showers pass, and formerly eventual long-term goodbyes take consecutive turns presenting themselves subtly but surely. It is a long road we've been walking on, and though it breaks, it refreshes and enlightens and gladdens to infinity and beyond-- perhaps due to infinite and beyond faith in what we do know.

The sky from under my hat.

I cup.

Our brilliant idea to play chess on the beach!