Last month I lost all of the photos that I took and didn't feel close enough to anyone at the time to really want to photograph them or something or anything, February is always a bad month anyway. I read the temperature of my room displayed on my space heater 42, 44, 49 and watched the clear pools of gel on my mirror shift and frost over. Held my hand under lamplight and waited to see the blood from another cut bead up and run, thought about watching my pupils dilate in a mirror as my neck was touched. This month I moved to Oregon on the other side of the country for a while. Shifted back to all of my belongings being full suitcases, traded icicles for blooming trees. Listened to rain tapping my plastic hood and frogs in the quarry next to the house at night. I lay in bed with nothing much to do and look at the distilled water jar my boy keeps on the windowsill for the plants the linoleum floor and motes. I feel very calm and empty-minded which is nice for now. Every beautiful place I went to I enjoyed very much but it was kinda like that quote 'he was pointing at the moon but i was looking at his hand', haha. Falling asleep isn't a game anymore and the morning is all red light.