the remains of summer memories.

Sometimes in the morning, I get on a train that goes all the way to the airport. And some days, I think about just staying on that train, going to the airport, throwing down my credit card and squeaking "gimmie a ticket to ANYWHERE BUT HERE!"

But then I remember that that's crazy and irresponsible, and that's not who I'm supposed to be anymore.

it's never enough.

nothing is lost, it's just frozen in frost.

in some strange universe, last week happened. this morning i woke up from this long dream that included long plane rides, family, tears, and beers. 

i've missed sydney. in this same strange universe, i see myself being happy there. i remember only the good things, the good times, and the smell of the city. it's not a bad smell, but it's just one that is uniquely sydney. like the smell of a friend's house. 

i wish it were really a dream that my aunt is really gone. that all her efforts and her families' efforts were not buried with those pink roses and picture frames. 

i'll always remember her grace, and her bravery. i'll remember the strength of her children and husband as they greeted and thanked everyone for caring so much without becoming the sobbing mess that i'm sure i would be. maybe it was the power of positivity that kept her here for that while. 

i'll maintain the idea that she's somewhere else, arriving on that other shore, with those that have left before her there to greet her. 

karma.

Yesterday, my brother and I were on our way to go look at a new bike for him, as his was recently stolen from the Bart station. We were talking about how we now both looked at bikes people we riding, to see if, by any chance, they were riding that blue Cannondale mountain bike that my dad had owned for 15 years. Alas, wherever it is, it is probably far, far away from Walnut Creek. I said "don't worry, karma will get them."

And then Cian said, "well, maybe they're in a situation where karma has already gotten them. And that's why they're stealing bikes."

...I guess I never thought of it that way before. 

photograph

Every time I see your face 

It reminds me of the places we used to go 

But all I've got is a photograph 

And I realize you're not coming back anymore

green eyed.

The worst part about coming back is being jealous of the people that tell you they're leaving.

love.

In honour of valentine's day last weekend (which was very nice for me, how was it for you?), I just feel like posting this quote, which is, in my opinion, the sweetest, yet simple, thing I've ever read in my life. Thank you, Brian Andreas.

"I read once that the Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep

&there are no words for that."