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journal: 9.4.13

It became humid again, the feeling the city is just one giant boil on an unkept foot.  And now cool air, the kind you want to slide into like cool sheets.

Laborrrrrrr Day weekend seemed to go on and on; I had a headache and terrible longing to be alone.

What does it mean to be of the land when one lives in the city?  Here this yard has become my favorite place in all of the universe, but there’s no room to roll around.  On the streets the trees look like they would rather be somewhere else.