i keep expecting things to happen that are impossible. staring up at the big glass building, watching the night overtake the day. i still count windows and remember pacing, patient. the bench on the hill with the moon overwhelming and observant. the hours and secrets and amazement. i was a student from berlin. everything was remarkable and new and we were continually shocked by the ease of it all. i keep expecting knowing that doors are shut and locked, and no amount of knocking will bring familiar sounds back. still, there are places i cannot go. this is not one of them, this favorite spot, looking up at the big glass building through curls of smoke and waiting, crossing fingers, pacing, patient.

i am an addict and i am broken and yes, this will kill me one day.