it's winter. winter in portland, which means chimney smoke and wet leaves. winter in portland means it's the end of november and there are still some trees with almost all green leaves. that is only strange because i am from the arctic middle of the country. this is my semi-tropical paradise.

imagine the unimaginable. it's like when you're hanging out by a cliff and you fall off. or when you're hanging out by the railroad tracks and you get hit by a train. you feel the sound. the rush. bam. but you're inside the sound, melting into the unimaginable. be careful when you get 1/2 cc closer to the edge, you might fall off.

i'm worn out. my body is falling apart. the parts don't know how to work together anymore. only 3 more weeks, 3 papers and a photo show. everything is bearing down on me, can i run faster than it? can i get there before i disintegrate?

so you got in a kind of trouble that nobody knows...