Part of Time

i've been packing. i boxed up one bookcase and started walking around this apartment, known as Amazonia, noticing what was mine. what needed to be gathered, wrapped, packed, abandoned. come sunday, i'll be in a new apartment, in a nicer part of time. i mean town. that was an authentic freudian slip there. analyze away.

i don't really know what i can say here about how leaving this house makes me feel. it makes me cry. i'll admit it. it's hard not to remember all the things said and done here. which is also why i'm moving. hopefully to a nicer part of time.

rumaging through old stuff, i found a quote i had written down.

"guns don't kill detectives, love does."