I think about the horizon feeling. As a moment of understanding what living is for, and why our momentum is forward. My horizon was peaks of mountains from every point of view, 5 friends, cold winds, orange and pink skies, and expensive gas for a van we made home. Was it the only time I felt this way? Or was it the first, and this is the reason for its presence? What will be new to me in that way? Can it repeat, if I strip it down, make it small, then smaller, if I find its essence? A dusty thing. Small parts to fill the cracks. We are not meant for eternity, but the horizon is of a world of forever. It makes sense why you are so wanted. I can't be against her, as in many ways I know her. But does she feel the horizon? Sand running through the crevices of a palm, you running through red dirt, sticking to leather boots. I used to know the minutes of the sunset, the angle at which it shifts in spring, where it stays steady for summer, and how frost can leave patterns on the soil. Now I know where to find cultural accumulation, density, diversity. I know cement and metro monologues. Where to find the most authentic curry and soft-spoken poetry. How to tell apart Dutch and German. The sound of all things industrial. Pillars and also arches. How to get your phone to work. How to love another language and how to find home in your mother tongue. I've learned how to remind myself of who I am. When to be within chaos and when to be within the city. How to speak without voice, how to hold others. How to love without looking and how to feel without touch. None of us knew we would stay. There was never a plan only an intention. Then the leaves came and went. We saw spring twice and felt the shift of sun on our faces. Home was constructed through curious minds and a distance far enough from the origin to make necessary a new water source. An appreciation for something out of context, random and resourceful. Leaning toward sustainability. The acceptance of flux, the knowledge of family that's not your own.

Maral took a Polaroid of me in my new shirt that Niko helped me pick out. She said 'This shirt is so you, I don't know who you were before this, but this is so you'. I felt it too. It's black velvet with big sleeves and shoulders. I have never felt so new. Like I really am a year older. Age has hit internally. It's an accumulation of all of my past selves and a new chapter has hit. It's full of supporting beams, internal and external structures. Naturally, there must be release, holding on can make things messy. My closet is full of pieces I haven't worn in months, it's sentimental, not something that feels right to give away. All of these pieces have been on my skin when I was the person who got me to where I am now. I love each version of her. So tonight when I arrive back in Barcelona, I will take the ones I love, that I've grown out of, and put them in a box. As a time capsule, ready for when I need to remember a part of myself. Change is the growth that fosters flourishing into one's most authentic self. I am me but I am also refining my desires, thoughts. Facing the self that is of benefit to my family and community. Giving for nothing in return but receiving it anyways.

Like myself the past is within the present form I take I will never feel what ** felt like again. It's Fluxus and can only be similar. The seeds I planted then are the roots that ground me now. It can feel similar but will never be the same horizon feeling.

It was after I found what your mind likes did I realize I like your mouth too. You smell of warmth and felt soft on my fingertips.

But I only want to crave myself for now. Energy as a stable feedback loop, from myself into myself. Wrapping both arms around my ribcage to fall asleep. A new awareness of my desires.