Most days my bags are packed. I settle in among borrowed belongings in a city of thrown aways, giveaways, and takeaways that offer me a multitude of first times and stories; fabricated, implied and recognized. With these things, I imagine many worlds while digesting ours. I get lost in the found . . . ask the suitcase to speak in soliloquies and allow the ache to articulate. All the meanwhile counseling my head to heed my heart.