Suitcase Ditties

I will make my transcontinental move exactly one month after the beginning of this journal, August 27th. A documentation of the inner mechanism before leaving all I love and hate behind to make chemical experimentations involving time, change, loss and longing is in order. A documentation of the initial experiments are in order. A lab book, you see? A documentation of the month leading up to the move and the month that follows it, the crucial stages in the Grand Scheme of my suitcase which had already enslaved me years ago. Perhaps a climax, an proper, even exemplary ceremony of a glorious inability to let go, definitely a hit-and-run, a breathtaking jewel heist involving the KGB and Chairman Mao that you don't want to be taken around the world by. A James Bond adventure of quelle est cette langueur/qui pénètre mon coeur, only without James Bond or Verlaine. It carries with it the weight, urgency and art of early teenage Microsoft Messenger status updates desperately crafted, song lyrics and What Are You Listening?s and all, for the eyes and response of a One. I forgive you for never writing back.