Very small women that smoke.
The thin, frail, boney, waifish women standing no taller than 5’6. The ones in the high mules and leather bomber jacket.
The woolen skirt….
When the bulkiest of fabrics can still outline your sharp silhouette…
These women make me think of disease.
I see their stringy hair, dark teeth, the tainted skin and thin lips.
These women have terrible diets, horrendous sex lives, and probably hate their children.
The strangest thing happened to me.
I walked to the shopping center up the hill from me in Neguri, I passed by a building after nearly running into a pole I turned and caught my reflection in it.
I was surprised.
I saw myself. I knew it was me. But almost didn’t recognize the person in that reflection.
What Rhymes with Hug Me?
If you ever wanted to know what it’s like to eat your breakfast just as your grandfather, wait until the day you get fillings in your teeth and your whole mouth is numb.
—Journal entry from 2012