i've been packing to move, throwing out as much as i can. my new room will be just larger than my bed, and all of this paper's been weighing me down, anyway, and i don't need so many clothes, either.
i've been carrying a broken murano glass vase around with me for three years now (broken in an earlier move), thinking i might fix it or fashion the pieces into something else, as beautiful or as useful, but it's time to concede that i can't or won't. it's become an empty gesture, keeping it around like this, doing nothing with it, and i'd started to forget what the fucking thing actually looked like for all of the time that i've spent staring at the broken pieces. so i tossed it. it's done.
i found an old letter, too, and it quoted this to me:
'one or two things are all you need
to travel over the blue pond, over the deep
roughage of the trees and through the stiff
flowers of lightning- some deep
memory of pleasure, some cutting
knowledge of pain.'