truth.

you are not a season.
you are my everything.

welcome home, ___ barclay.

help me name him?

homesick. version three.

homesick. version two.

homesick. version one.

christopher, the patron saint of travelers.

i had a conversation with an old man today. interesting guy. i don't know, no details. it was a just a good conversation outside of a record store. he gave me a little worn medal right out of his pocket and said to wear it around my neck. i wasn't sure what it meant, so i looked it up when i got back to where i'm staying. "st. christopher, protect us." it says. the internet tells me he's the patron saint of travelers. he will keep me safe when traveling and protect me from the bulbonic plague. it feels heavier in my hands, now that i know what it means, but it's a good heavy. i'm not really religious, but do you think he's still been protecting me?

This feeling is strange.

Things are slowing falling into place piece by piece. I know not everything will go the way I want, but for now, I am content with the way things are. There are things I can't do anything more about. I am, however, wondering how smooth is smooth sailing. Everytime I feel like this, another shoe drops. I'm not sure how many shoes there are hovering in the sky, waiting to fall and hit me square in the head, but I know that everytime I think there must not be any more... well, I'm always wrong. I'm expecting you this time, shoe. Wherever you are. I'm ready for you.