Mint tea, homemade chocolate truffles, reading through old journals. Slacking off. Making arrangements. Always getting phone calls when I'm out. Insulting local perverts. Dreaming of airports and road trips and places I've never seen. Wheels always turning. Eyes and mouth and fingers and laugh @ the wheel. Numbers and symbols and typed out words invisible. Blinking out all of the heaviness and slowness of Winter and taking in warm stretches of colour. Hardly looking out the window- hardly needing to. Turning far away inside out and leaving it behind. Singing and meaning every word.

What will be, we never know. What is, we are. So, so close.