Movement.

Ayumi found a new apartment. It's seven blocks from our current one, and absolutely beautiful: an old Victorian with hardwood floors, high ceilings, and basically everything I would like in a house. Her lease is two years, so I don't know exactly what I'm going to do when I get back from Berlin. Maybe Seattle is actually realistic.

I've had a lump in my throat for the past week. I lay in bed every night before I fall asleep, wondering if I'm going to suffocate in the night. An earthquake usually hits my chest during these episodes, my heart pounds at least one wave per second. Then the aftershocks: shaky knees, sweaty palms, gasping for breath, praying to a God I don't believe in that the oxygen will bypass the lump. So far it has, but I truly believe that each breath will be fin, my pounding heart my grand finale.

I haven't ever felt this trapped before.

There is a blank billboard on the corner of Arguello and Geary. The sight of it made me irrationally sad, but there was also a distinct beauty in its reflective white. It's wonderful to have a break from constant advertisements, but why is it their right to steal a chunk of the sky from me?