I thought of liminal spaces as I fell back into my bed. I slept atop a tatami mat that smelled like stale grass. Spring is acid burning into summer. The bugs have begun their march back into view, covering walls and steps like little chitinous placeholders.

I thought about the salt water taffy stretch of time and how redemption has an awful lot of different looks.

Soon I’ll be back on an adventure (in the midst of a grander one). A broadly sketched outline of a plan first brought out of the ether in text.