22 november 2016

i'm writing a lot more, by hand, on paper, with ink. i enjoy the feeling of physically flipping through the pages and reading the words a recent-past version of myself wrote down. the quality of my handwriting hints to my state of mind; the ink tells me which pen i used, which sometimes corresponds to a time and place.

i alternate between drifting away from myself, and snapping back into a sharp and present reality.

i am water, flowing ever towards the center of the earth, spreading to fill the edges of my container.