spotify picked me up and dropped me in a puddle of nostalgia, an icy, oily, cold water bath of remembering my life in montreal.
the long distance love that fed my heart, the misunderstood mystery that i wrapped myself up in, the quiet, unquestioned confidence that at some point i would re-emerge, come out the other side of it, warm up, wake up, and arrive.
i'm an honest-to-goodness grown up now: self-sufficient, self-employed, engaged to be married. but i'm still a shape shifter. one song, one mood, one habit, and without any outward sign, this grown up self disappears and any one of my former mes can reappear and look around and think, what's this? where am i? all these people are foreign to me and i want to go home.