i went to see what would be my place. it's small, smaller than mine, which is ok mine's filled with unused stuff. i'm in love with the adjoined backyards, the courtyard, the seclusion. i'm afraid of putting all my dog bones into it and then having no reserve. and if r. and i were to merge spaces... if the two bedroom opened up... i feel like i'm dreaming. i went home and saw a place abandoned, who left left a mess, a life. what am i supposed to do now. start over? in tarkovsky's last film he talks of monks who every five years no matter what burn all their stuff and start wandering again. i want to be someplace like this, a secret garden, but it takes a certain something. is it me.

i like muggs a lot. i feel i've made an art friend at least.