transit. ions.

being out of texas is both a relief and a sort of letting go that reminds me of times when I was much younger. The dog is old. I am older. I am also covered with bruises from the moving and packing.

my parents home is full of shadow selves, but less so than their last home in south carolina where I was guaranteed to re-meet a sort of darkness that lingered in me for days after I'd left.

now we are looking for our own home in a sunny place between the mountains and the ocean where everything costs twice as much. the writing -- the words and pictures -- feels submerged by the need to find a roof and an income. as it should be, I suppose.

our currency should be the feather