James Fenimore Cooper
journal entry
3am—its raining now and lately I've been thinking about the time we spent in Boston. It was the stress of winter mornings in cafes trying to find an apartment and then killing time in a bar next to the bookstore where you worked. the memory has been like an earworm setting up shop in my head and I can't figure out why. I see myself walking everywhere in dots of light that run amok in narrow streets and being overwhelmed by sounds escaping mouths and machines. its raining now and sometimes I remember the dreamy moon you see in movies of people watching movies... its always just outside of waking thoughts...wondering if I'm not here but somewhere else fantastical—in mists crawling up waterfalls early in the morning or in the meandering myths that live in our human mold. and for a moments I'm weightless and then I'm back to watching a blur of beads on the window.