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2014-08-24 - 1:47 p.m. Time folds over itself these days. Moments become transparent. Looking through, I see the sediment of related histories layered on top of one another. Sometimes I can't tell the difference between something that just happened, and something that occurred years before. Our relationships have changed in unexpected (and in some cases, expected) ways. Two of the crew are getting married. Others have not spoken since. I feel at once a great distance, and an intense collision with a past. What parts of me are residues of you? Or you? Whose ghosts do I reflect my ideas against? Which is to say: your voices and opinions (although likely outdated and imperfect) are still alive in my mind. What would you think of this? Is what I am doing good enough for you? Two a.m. tea in Jasmine's mom's living room;
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