but poetry would be far too kind a description for the events that took place this weekend.
i tried to put into words the sights, the sounds, the feelings, the people, the places, the air, the food, the drink.
oh god. . .the drink.
it was all a blur.
my photos even seem too kind a depiction of the things my eyes remember seeing.
my last peek at the white light moon before dipping into a tunnel underground.
then glances exchanged in the blackness, the empty void of reflections missed.
the feather light feeling in my stomach as i climbed the stairs in an open-air stadium with a million other people.
sitting on a barstool, the unfamiliar laughter seeping from my own gut.
the apex.
the quiet complaints, the innocent moments of memories recalled.
and i find myself craving more.
katie and i are moving to chicago. i decided.
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