June 8th, 2005
111819206362796588
This morning
It felt strange riding in to work today. There were almost no cars on Yamate dori up until Rt. 246. It was quiet, and I felt disconnected from the ground, like my head was coasting by in jar of cotton. I do things and there are reactions. My hand sweeps through wheat and over the rough brick walls. Every detail is caught and absorbed by my fingers. Everything is moving, like a in a vacuum, and I just slowly pass through it and bend the trajectory of objects drifting past. I think I want to fall down at the ocean.
