i have finally picked up a book to read. it has been far too long, my friends. i am restless, in a literary way; as in everything seemed so unappealing and i couldn't sit still with just one. i have gone to my favourite south american man. marquez, you are such a charmer. of love and other demons. that is what we should have been called. should we? perhaps not. perhaps perhaps perhaps. i wish my old computer wasn't smashed to bits before i could retrieve old scanned photos and love songs from yesteryear. it wasn't really yesteryear but you get the picture.

my dreams as of late have been quite vivid and i believe they have, in large part, something to do with being sick. it was like i was watching ponyo except no ponyo. the water was sky blue, like it was coloured in with a newly sharpened pencil crayon. remember when our school boxes were full of such things? even though we went back to school shopping, there it was, that burgundy box full of pencils, erasers and crayons. but i digress. the trees were drawn in so crudely, like i had done them myself, but it was still very real. i met a boy with ginger hair who knew what to do. he lead me to safety and i liked that. i really did.

he asked me today if i learned anything new about fidel. it stumped me for a moment because i have passively just gone on believing what i believe. do i see him differently? well, i suppose i see them all differently these days.

we thought they'd never end