I’m going to France soon. I’ll be there for two weeks. I’m hoping to do a tremendous amount of drawing, and reach some sort of realization. I’ve been listening to a lot of Chopin and Debussy late at night. As a young adult maybe it’s easier to be romantic about receiving epiphanies; I find myself pawing in the air at what’s available, anything that may allow my mind to drift beyond politics, pop culture and Minnesota. It’s disturbing, the cloudy possibility of swirling into an acknowledgment that maybe now isn’t your time, now it’s okay not to try. I’ve been reading book after book on Mediaeval castles and life, I want to study, then surround myself to the bloody teeth with French chateau. Cold stone and winds, sweaters, French bakeries, trains, fields. I’m excited.