big jet plane.

I know I don’t want to be where I am. I know I want to be where you are. I know I can’t be where you are. I know I’m not going to stay where I am.

I don’t know where I’m going, exactly.

I change out of my pajamas and back into a pair of jeans, I grab my iPod and pack of Parliaments. My brisk walk to campus is a confused mix of whipping wind and surprise at the warmth of this particular Berkeley evening.