nostalgic raze sometimes i think i'd like to slip back into one of the least comfortable pockets of my life for a minute or two. not to alter anything. not to see anyone i can't or won't see now. not to reclaim some piece of my past that's been lost or misplaced. just to stand in one specific room, in one specific house. to smell the halting breath of a window air_conditioner straining to cool all the rooms it can't reach. and to feel what it was to find the red in my hair for the first time, concealed by curls i didn't know were mine until i stopped flattening them out with a handheld fan fed by electric heating coils. 240715 what's it to you? who go blather from