Nothing post

Glebe. (Sydney, October 2009.) My roommates and I went walking after midnight, I barefoot and in pajamas. A smaller bridge, the harbor. Two of them were from Germany and one from France. They were going to be here much longer than I was. I walked ahead of them, or behind? I didn't keep pace with them, because I wasn't interested in what they were talking about.

Earlier we had been up on the roof and I remembered I don't like beer and was dead tired anyways. As I am now.

I have always been enamored of the shadows that streetlights cast through trees any time of the year but winter. In Glebe. In Wheaton. I found an unlocked bike and no one noticed the honey stain on the carpet, and I made off with it. But there was another night when it was foggy? Or? And rode through the shadows of still-clad trees. Winter wasn't even a scent yet.

Almost everything I remember from that semester was night. How did that happen?


pinkapplecore 8/07/2010 5:27 AM  

Magical things happen at night.

her 8/07/2010 12:29 PM  

night is best

Jenica 8/07/2010 12:54 PM  

this feels like a dream, a noctivagant dream. I love it.

Holly 8/07/2010 3:44 PM  

pinkapplecore and her - So with you.

Jenica - I had to look that word up. I love it.

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