don't cry for me, argentina.
pre-moleskine. july, 1999.




sometimes when things aren't going so great in the present, we find ourselves looking to the past. after coming off an emotional high (see a couple of posts ago), i find myself dragged through a painful conversation among friends. it was enough to make me grab an old journal, and flip through the pages. to see if i've changed. to see if i've lost my soul. lost my sense of direction. lost my kindness. goodness. gentleness. self-control. here's to all the shepherds.
jay conder, patron saint of road trips, this one's for you.
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