Panorama

CJ: Welcome to this water house. We have been talking about moving out of here.. money is scarce and time is worth more than money. We love this place, this water house. It has been what we needed in this time. A place of rest, hibernation, focus. It has been the set for arguments and apologies, for mistakes and good artworks and growth.

Maybe we'll end up staying after all. Maybe the weather will get warmer and the river will reward us for the heat bill we're paying now. Maybe we're just panicking. I pay more than my rent in student loans each month, which feels like some kind of slavery or at least servanthood. Its too bad I don't love money more.. I mean, maybe I'd be able to make a lot of it.

Anyways, thank God for the water house. For the sleep and confusion. For the thin walls that let us learn about adulthood through our neighbors, our neighbors that we know well enough to consider roommates we never actually see. For the high ceilings that allow room for the shifting sandbars in our heads. And for our youth.

I bought that couch. With five hundred dollars of my own, i bought it, a little while ago, when I had five hundred dollars to buy a couch with. I bought it with the money I made mowing lawns in one hundred degree weather in DC and stocking shelves at an organic supermarket listening to Bob Marley on the sound-system saying, "yes, quinoa is right over here, and it's pronounced 'keen-wa'. I know weird right?"

Yeah, I bought that couch, and I'll take it wherever ever we go, whenever we go, if we go anywhere, because I like it and it looks like an artists couch cause its not that big and its good for thinking on.