14:22.  Offsite.  Not saying where.  Still in Windsor and close to loft.  Should cut off this fucking cover over the tattoo later.  It’s annoying me, and not helping the mood.

#MYMUSICMOODNOW – Ressurrection, by Common.  One of my favorite-EVER hip-hop tracks, and writing pieces.  I feel playful in language, no more anguish.  Now I’m a bandit, taking what I want from the day.

14:24, friend comes by asks what I want, answer obvious.  And I look through old captures.  How did time … where did it go?  How am I here?  How have I experiences all this?  Seriously, in my most distanced and irrational of fantasies I would NEVER have been convinced I’d have the condo, that second floor loft.

At…. Almost said the location.  Staying off radar, know some people are watching and literally inventorying everything I do conspiring to spin it some way.  How sad, how LARGE in intention.

Shot from 2016, Dutcher Crossing I think. Such symbolism and mystery, history, blurred symmetry in the glasses.  I fall into an interpretive pit, calm and assuring.

So I type on, seeing what I can do and find in my own character.  The thought of anything contrived, no.  It will all be truth and candid Composition.  Only way it can be, me here writing just off the Town Green… learning from Self and these trials and hurdles if you could call them that.