April 17th, 2003 - 6:00 p.m.

Uneventful, but fraught with memory.

Opaque nostalgia narrates a sense of tragic sunnyness, as it often does.

Calendars ought not come with such heavy detailing of seaweed bound Shanghaiese crab and the heavy breath that comes with consumption of cognac. The dusty shuffle of newspaper.

All comes with ill mannered but adorable bunnies searching in the grass.

Makes one smile.

This grasping onto fragments of childhood stops at the violent memory of birth, and the stickiness that ensued. It piques the hairs to recall with such vividness things that ought to have been erased for the sake of sanity.

N.

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