I might move to California.

Always thought I would, you know.

In the days before New York. Days before the city took ahold and lovers took ahold and something inside affixed itself to the cold. To the grey and the possibilities of a million bodies crashing into mine.

So I’m gonna go. Make the big jump over water and land. Find a little place for my bed and my books. For me to be alone in until I finish out this phase.

And then maybe I’ll make a garden. Maybe I’ll make a boat.

Sit out on the sand and watch the waves roll in.