flâneur

spines for a lifetime - by Spencer Chang

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I haven't written anything for a while. Even my daily journal from the past month looks awfully empty. My hands feel rusty going flicking across the keyboard. I have feelings I want to express, but I can't seem to get them across the page right. I'm listening to Ryuichi Sakomoto's Solitude, and I can feel my heart beating with the solemn crescendos. The night feels darker this time of year. I watch the orange glow of a paper lamp cascade off the whitewashed walls. Cars pass regularly, creating a symphony with the soaked streets. I wonder how long it'll take me for the words to come out as I wish they would. My pen has been silent, in large part, because I've felt uncertain. You might have noticed the theme over the past few months: a pernicious, creeping doubt of my choices and commitments. In response, I reminded myself of my will to continue choosing and to focus on what I want. Still, it slithers back when I look away. The thing that has helped most recently is thinking about what i

I haven't written anything for a while. Even my daily journal from the past month looks awfully empty. My hands feel rusty going flicking across the keyboard. I have feelings I want to express, but I can't seem to get them across the page right. I'm listening to Ryuichi Sakomoto's Solitude, and I can feel my heart beating with the solemn crescendos. The night feels darker this time of year. I watch the orange glow of a paper lamp cascade off the whitewashed walls. Cars pass regularly, creating a symphony with the soaked streets. I wonder how long it'll take me for the words to come out as I…

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