Day 295. The message is the same: regardless of the outcome, we must try.

Day 294. I am a whisper through feathers.

Day 293. Where is the halfway point in heartache? I measure madness in spirals.

Day 292. I am not a teacher, I said; I am still learning.

Day 291. His intentions are pure, his heart is with me. I feel this. So why lie?

Day 290. I was simply passing through before my next destination. This is a tagline for my lifeline at the moment.

Day 144. A part of my heart sprang to life in this brash and boastful city.

Day 143. the hunt is a slippery, dangerous thing.

Day 142. rotting plants, excrement, blood, and sweat; the filth is the nectar that nourishes.

Day 141. I just want my lovers to remember me as a silver gash in the thunderstorm, stroking like salmon. Flicking their tails wildly upstream.

Day 140. spreadsheets of the soul—full of questions.

Day 139. Night fire is in her blood. The flag flutters in its cell of ivory walls.

Day 138. The ripple of the percolator reminds me of my hunger. There are more layers to need than I realized.

Day 137. Her hand holds the brush; he is the paint.

Day 136. I’ve nothing I suffer immediately, though; I sign off without a name in my messages to you.

Day 135. Remember me, like this, standing on tiptoes full of citrus and sunlight. Ascension is always worth the risk of failure.

Day 134. The glass will shatter if you let it fall. Pick up the shards and make something magnificent.

Day 133. I mistook my heart for a fist and used it to beat my opponents. I crawled home empty.

Day 132. Poetry is my sun; it makes the wetlands sparkle.

Day 131. I live for the potential the impossible flash of stars striking—a feeling of fading love.