I have to move. Again. I've moved 9 times this past year. I've taken my postcards off the walls and scotchtaped them again on other walls. I don't mind that much. It's the way I work, too, escape. I excell in the art of Escape. I can be gone in the next few hours. I can pack up and disappear. I've started anew in other places and enjoyed the idea that no one except my father and my dog knew where i was for several months. The blank slate. Shock therapy.

It figures.