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It’s a strange feeling,

and it’s also a feeling where I don’t want to center my feelings. I don’t want to be like, "ahhhhh, I’m nervous to go to auschwitz" because it’s like, c'mon, dude. There’s just something about the idea of a car coming to pick us up in 20 minutes and drive us to that place. it's a bit, you know, on the nose as it were, because that’s sort of exactly what happened to the people who were getting picked up and chatteled over to that place. it’s very, very sinister, and the echoes are not lost on me, and they’re intentional, I’m sure. I’m sure they’re intentional. Right? I wonder..... It’s a grave feeling!!!!! It’s a very grave feeling, and I can’t help but think of the social life of things. what kind of place is auschwitz now? we all see it on the surface as the place where the holocaust really happened, and I think it was like a million people were killed there, but then in all the time that has passed since then, the place has taken on all this new stuff. There’s so much new baggage that the place has. Now it’s the site of, you know, a ritualized form of... how do we say... privilege, emotions, and tourism. it’s hallowed ground, but it also has a completely new social life in the modern era. I feel the need to write about it, even though it hasn’t happened yet, because it’s one of those things that has a very strong gravitational pull. Even its existence in the future pulls my present self toward thinking about it, considering it, and yeah....... and yeah. And I’m tempted to think about my own life and times, and to think about something like where i am going to go once ██████ leaves. I’m realizing, in real time, like.... huh. ██████ is waking up now. here she comes ..... she’s up, and now we’re almost basically ready to head out. It sounds like she’s getting some water.

Ten minutes.....

I’m excited for the opportunity for something to do. the grayness of these walls and the whiteness of the paint being stripped away at the corner in front of me... a corner that juts into the interior of the room, and the art on the wall of a hazy day on the shore.... ██████ just came out and is shuffling along, shuffling along,,,,, doing something... making coffee, by the sounds of it.... I wonder, is she tired, what’s she got going on, what’s her tea in this moment? I do wonder, I do wonder, I do wonder. For a moment I had lost my passport, didn't find it in the pocket where it usually is, and I had a moment of "well, shit, what if I don’t have my passport," and then, moments later——seconds, really——I found it in another pocket. And that’s just one little episode from my day that never would’ve been passed down to posterity if I wasn’t addicted to writing. If I weren’t addicted to writing. Anyway, now we have it, and now it’s time to go... it’s really time to go, so here we go. And enjoy yourself, but you know... yeah. It’s like... right. You know. You know, you feel the gravity of it from afar, like the sun. the sun