I seem to be able to grab a WiFi signal in the hotel. In Brattleboro, Vermont is where I write this from. The lonliness of hotel rooms. From my window I can look out on the apartment where I used to live, where I used to watch people staring across from this very room, staring or otherwise engaged. The thing about a mirror is both sides are the same. It'll be good to leave this place tomorrow. *That* is what this experience reminds me of. That leaving Boston will be not unlike leaving Brattleboro. You leave and you leave and you leave. Until there's nothing left to leave. And that leaving is the thing that none of us understand. That leaving is the thing that defines our time in this place...