I feel in love.

It's strange. Not with anyone in particular. But with lots of things. It is tactile, but in the way that dreams are. It can be felt, but it cannot be touched.

The wind outside, a new Ben Gibbard album, the potential of things to come.

I've been sick all week and I stayed home from work and school yesterday. I feel like I'm in a suspended state. Real life is far away from this place that I live in. The days seem like they stretch out forever, but then I find that it is evening, the sun is going down. It's all so inconstant. I would blame this on whatever illness it is that I have, but really - time has been behaving this way for quite a while.

The semester is half way through. This past summer seems like an incomplete memory from another girl's life. The weeks fly by and afternoons blend into mornings. I cannot seem to pin down any specifics. I wish I were a better artist so that I could express this visually. That's the only way I think it would make sense.

It looks like this:

Each day contains echoes and faint images of each day before it. As this particular day goes by, it's like the ghosts of last year and the year before and the year before float in and out of the picture. There is motion in the image and a sort of continuity to it. It is saturated and heavy. There is a sense of illumination through the veil of the shapes and figures. It is like looking through trees at dusk.