yesterday i sat out on the porch at twilight. the air was cool and still and i was struck by the quietness of the neighborhood.

sometimes i think about what it means to live in a place.

this is where i live. this is the building that i reside in. this is where i eat food and sleep in my bed. this is where i have stuff. somehow i can’t get past the feeling that even if i were to be the owner of this home, any home for that matter, it would still feel a bit like camping. there is an impermanence that i can’t seem to shake.