I haven't written here for a while. Not that it needs to. It's okay if months slip by. This place is only meant for me, a way to remember things, to put a pin in certain memories.

I returned from traveling. Back in routines. I thought I would change my life, but I'm embracing the patience.

I don't recognize myself or my work in the internet theories that people are writing about. But that's okay. I don't believe they represent humans with complex lives. That's the internet::life I see.

The more I think this way about the internet, that it is life, the less I can see it differently. No one lives that way, not even the people writing it.

I've started to believe in landscape. In the mist and talus fields and the curve of the road. I try to steer the car on the narrow road, following the tracks between the snow, wondering if the tires are actually snow tires. It's only scary when a large truck passes. I feel fragile in this humid box. I think I'm interested in living a slow fast slow life.

On the last night, the cabin gets very smoky. It's difficult to leave the warmth. The cold air is like drinking water. I miss both.