sometimes i feel like i'm living that part of the book where the prisoner makes notches in the wall for every day he's been imprisoned. he draws lines on the floor to mark the shifting of the moonlight to form a makeshift calender and he has names for each of the mice who pay him visits. this is not a sad letter, all of us know about happy endings, but i know that we must pay our debts sometimes. the desert left me with an agoraphobia so thick and i haven't felt like this since i floated away from the islands a few years ago. i lied to myself in shanghai and convinced myself that somehow i was ready for life in a big city but inside there is this monkey wanting to run back to the wild. yet i maintain that each man has a debt to pay, some embalm this in their religion and look to external sources to pay their debts of salvation and some look to the company of a female but for whatever reason i've stumbled across i look to changing of tides and the curiosity of how summer becomes winter and vise-versa. winter bums me out a bit. at least it does at first. i like waking up with cold on the fronts of my eyelids and i love the way a hot shower sticks to you for the first half hour afterwords. i'm getting older, in that good way. my faces wear their lines well and i dont question things anymore; just act out of instinct without validation. this is the hibernating time. the learning time. the valley between big travels. for now i set my sails back to my hometown where the dust of my footprints still can be found in the hollowed corners of one of this land's most interesting cities.
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