alice and the protagonist

losing a journal is worse than losing a finger. i feel like this about my backpack (alice) as she is like a journal to me. she carries in her many pockets the stories i've come to tell and be told over the years. she's my pillow and we have similar tattoos. she has a complex security system blessed upon her from serendipity. you have to know the right way to equip yourself with her or she will cut a nasty gash in your arms. she worries about me when i leave her hanging on the back of my bedroom door for too long. she worries that i've forgotten about her sometimes but in the respect of great love i know when to give her space, when to understand our differences. but we are the same. i am her and she is me. one day she'll leave me and i'm not afraid. i'll cry for her but i'll know she is always moving. she'll know that in the losing of her i will learn a valuable lesson, perhaps one that will possibly someday save my life. there is no love like your first love.



our protagonist, aged 28 years, holding his true love alice. istanbul, turkey. traveler, lover of living, living of a lover. increasingly near-sighted, 5'10", 155lbs. vegetarian with a guilty pleasure for the occasional sea creature.