eighteen january
nine : twenty-nine p.m.

familiar territory. familiar streets and faces and trees and smells. and i don't have to worry if i fall asleep on the couch.

but i haven't done a thing since i've been here. i haven't even gone to see him.

tomorrow. tomorrow morning. and all day, and all night.

and it will be snowing.

music : "firefly" by ida
literature : incessant
fixation : tomorrow's snow storm