unfinished maps

Now I'm about as old as the adults, and I've lost that albino-blond shade. Tomorrow means another krismas lo' mi - it's another birthday. Feeling a bit philosophical about it this year, being close to some things and people and far from others; having traversed “scapes” mental and physical that were unexpected. Tracks, lines drawn out of experiences that I can’t always understand, until much later, until long past their beginnings.

But some things remain familiar. Like that feeling of being "alert, excited. Travel, such [as] through space, was her self-enchantment. Relocation into new coordinates. Forfeited certainties. The erotics of strangeness. She couldn’t bear the persistence of the known into stale habituation..." (G Jones, Dreams of Speaking)

That's what I've got the foolishness to ask for of the next year - more relocations, more strangeness; a lack of habit -