dear internet,

my phone camera stopped working, and then fixed itself—a few brief hours i spent walking by the lake, photographing wild blueberries and clear skies—and then it stopped working again. we kept arriving at places yesterday just as they were closing, but we kept trying anyway. last week i took six trains in a day and they were all on time; for the rest of the day i waited for the karmic repercussions of such unwarranted luck. (my phone camera was already dead.) so many things i haven't been able to record: the sculptural project at the monument that was only open to visitors yesterday: hammers struck firmly and independently into stone, water dripped steadily into a waiting receptacle, and fake candles flickered. or the cows and the horses and the egrets from the train window; the fountain casting rainbows; the fluffiest tail of the smallest rabbit. in any case most of these photos only ever move from a folder on my phone to a folder on my hard drive. in any case it's thirty-one degrees in september and my windows are dusty and cobwebbed from the outside, my neighbours laid a red carpet on the pavement and had dinner outdoors, everybody's dropping ice cream at crosswalks, and in the fields despite it all the geese are gathering, preparing for what they know is next.

love,
t