i don’t know if they’re really books anymore. just
collections of things i’ve written down. notes
from other places.
other places i haven’t been to. other places
that don’t actually exist. i just go there, low key,
and take some notes. not everything is interesting.
maybe i wish it were.
but i have fun on my trips to the other places. the
other places that don’t actually exist. the other
places are nice to visit sometimes. but i don’t
think i’d want to live there. maybe.