"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>sometimes i am a dead girl

>yesterday, my last day in munich, i made my way up to dachau.

i don’t want to talk about it.

this morning i hopped on at 7:12 am train to zurich. the train wound lush-green mountains, lavendar hills, amber grain fields, crystal lakes where lillypads mingled with the bullrushes.

cows daudling along dirt paths. chateaus with triangle-latch roofs. drizzle tapping morse code onto my window.

ancient churches with clock-towers booming every hour.

now that i only have a little over 2 weeks left in europe, the continent insists on reminding me everywhere i go that i cannot escape the time.

the years shall run like rabbits,
for in my arms i hold
the flower of the ages,
and the first love of the world.

but all the clocks in the city
began to whirr and chime:
o let not Time deceive you,
you cannot conquer Time.

in the burrows of the nightmare
where justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
and coughs when you would kiss.

in headaches and in worry
vaguely life leaks away,
and Time will have his fancy
tomorrow or today.

-w.h. auden

now i sit in downtown zurich, soon to be hitting the street parade with julia, thinking about a palace of winds.

the hollow at the base of your throat, that place that i love, is called a suprasternal notch.

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