It snowed one of the days I spent with Dashnyam at the Academy of Traditions. I don't know why changes in the weather make me feel so pensive. The morning was overcast but bright today, warm enough for flip flops, and it smelled like burning. Later after we came out of the café it was almost rain cloudy and the smell was different.
I'm not even sure why I want to stay in a dirty city that smells like burns and freezes over vomit and condoms in the wintertime. I guess I don't think I have done enough. I don't think I am done learning. And I have nowhere better to be. If I went back to the ranch all the old memories would be there, but moreover, I cant afford to live alone where I grew up. None of us can, so we all left and come back once or twice a year to sleep on our parents sofas, smoke a bowl, reconnect. To each other, to the land and oak tress, the memoryscape.