I don’t know. Poets are always taking the

I don’t know. Poets are always taking the weather so personally. They’re always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotions.

J.D. Salinger

“So long everyt…

“So long everything!” he shouted, then he ran next door to Margot’s house.

“I’m moving,” he said.

“Where?” asked Margot.

“Two weeks away,” said Mitchell.

“Where is that?” asked Margot.

“It’s everywhere I will be after I walk for two weeks,” said Mitchell. “I have lived in the same place for a long time. It is time for me to go someplace else.”

“No,” said Margot. “You have only lived next door for fifteen years.”
“Sixteen,” said Mitchell.

“Fifteen, sixteen, what’s the difference?” said Margot. “I want you to live next door forever.”

“I can’t,” said Mitchell. “I do not want to go wake up in the same old bedroom and eat breakfast in the same old kitchen. Every room in my house is the same old room because I have been there too long.”

A Spindle, a Darkness, a Fever, & a Necklace

Bright Eyes, “Fevers & Mirrors”