here is the truth about september. it sneaks up on you and all of sudden it's autumn, and you don't know what to do with your recently orphaned august daydreams. so you stuck them between the pages of brand new notebooks, and leave them in the corners of your sweatshirt pockets to gather lint, and you set them on fire until all the trees are smoldering red and orange and yellow.
this is the moment where you can assume i'm still alive. however i've been busy converting my milieu into...me. a surrealistic, rosy world. ipod turned into a record player,mainly playing magician/romanian-gypsy-music,flamenco-guitarists and chansons. cardigans into kimonos. artmags into weekly newspapers. ideas into novels. but there's also always something bad about changes - change from summer to autumn means i have to freeze now when smoking at night and neither my notebooks nor world map will keep me warm.