"This is my earthly failure"

Old family movies: a summer at my grandparents' old two room house way out in the countryside, five hours from Moscow. A new haircut and a gigantic cut on my lip, holding an enormous carrot from the garden and dancing all the time. A lot of bike riding, and falling, and late nights fighting off mosquitos at the kitchen table. Handwashing my own laundry, and I was six. Both sets of grandparents around the same table. Dirt roads and fields, vines turning fencewood into lumber.

I can feel time wash over me like a tide, the pull of it always forceful and gritty. Age is melancholy: the last baby tooth pulled, the professional wardrobe purchased and waiting, the complete and utter absence of the energy that used to make me somersault all over the room. The one truth is that time keeps moving forward and that I have to make peace with each moment as it passes. And there are an infinite number of moments in a second!

By the way, I have already failed every new years resolution in the book. Look out for maybe a new photo project soon, and some new recordings as compromises.