I've spent the past few days in the dark.

I've been reading and writing and changing the water for my flowers. I found a site called strange horizons, people submit paintings and fiction. I've read the desires of houses, wrack, portrait of ari, the machine, the taste of chicory at high tide, tall jorinda, adventures in dog-walking in downtown philadelphia, they fight crime, rapunzel dreams of knives, the featherless chicken. a few are awkward, dangling with a too-flowery word here, a pretentious clause there, but some are sad and beautiful. read ari. read houses, and machine. they're ideas you never thought of before.

I'm walking to town with aimee, we need fresh air and coffee, but mostly to forget for an hour. walks with aimee are slow and rambling, conversations about the beach and gender roles, the video games we never played.

I love it here, most of the time. but I'm tired of walking in the dark and coughing in stairwells.

we talk in strange high voices because we don't know what to say to each other.

ash @ 2:02 PM