I wonder if I am just a profoundly sad person who needs some segment of sadness to feed her soul, or...

I feel homesick. Not for the place, the Sacrament-o, but for a feeling. The green-white streetlight, the old and peeling places, the decrepit tower and its theatre, the crest of K street, the feel of being, and breathing, and moving still. The smells. It's the smells more than anything.

And the way my guts twist and keep twisting, it's easy to crave all the way back. Maybe...

Well, maybe forward. It's certainly possible that it's time. One way, or the other.

<<agé chose>>

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