The days pass, I do not write. I can not explain it. People wear jackets in the streets now; it gets hard to bike home in the evenings without the lights on. I go to work with my head safely on my shoulders but oh how the nights fall apart. My apartment takes on the air of cardboard box underneath the bridge, all piles and hoarded potential.
The Escape key on my computer keyboard has fallen off.
I have no idea what I'm doing.
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