On the strange mercy of getting lost in an unfamiliar city
There is a particular grace in surrendering to disorientation.
A personal journal
Where the waking world ends
and the dreaming begins.
Travel, solitude, and the small hours of the morning.
Latest entries
Why I stopped collecting things and started collecting silences
Reflections on what I found when I stopped filling every quiet moment with noise.
The recurring lake I have visited seventeen times in sleep
A dream journal entry about a place that does not exist, or does not exist yet.