Different People in Old Buildings

journal

mixed media 13”x17”

...nothing but more mysteries before me in the borrowed nighttime. I'm so far from where I've started and lately it feels as if there is some undiscovered version of myself I want to locate. It's late in this smeared parking lot and I'm thinking about the rings and earrings of the people who were around me earlier tonight. I wonder if you knew someone like me when you were my age — someone who didn't say much. I want my memories to be of someone who will make plans and clutch onto constellations — someone who will make defined forms of invisible patterns so there will be no more hiding places in the sky. Down here there's an idiot, some sick cow moaning in a field. Sour wine smell on my clothes and mired in picture narratives I didn't see coming.