Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Over a month ago I started washing my hands of Japan as soon as I set foot in San Francisco. By the time I got to Denver I was done, finito, over it. But I've been having some dreams and reminisces(es?) lately that make it obvious I didn't really wash my hands of that year -- I breathed too much of it in, and it will keep seeping out of my pores until it's finished, I guess. I don't know quite what to make of it, but I do know I need to start writing again.