i remember the smell of the brick, and the weight of the humidity on my skin, the smell of smoke in the doorway, the musk of things unpacked from summer storage, the rain.

i remember that hungry excitement when sitting down at kabob and curry, i remember the chutneys, i remember the nan, i remember the basmati rice, and the tandoori chicken, and the stain it left on LA's fingers.

i remember when Sandy accidentally ate marzipan cheese at the candy store that opened up on thayer when we were sophomores, and i remember the way she looked as she gagged but swallowed it down anyway.

i remember the swing-set behind hope high on a warm september night, i remember swinging and praying and feeling as lonely as i do now.

i remember the smell of the hardwood floor in my room at 44 hidden. i remember the green walls and the texture of them. that room felt like the first space i actually owned.

i remember feeling delirious with an empty stomach, aching from staying up all night over and over.

i remember how dry, tight, and swollen my hands felt after nights of sanding and finishing furniture. i remember being sore.

i remember camp berea.

i remember feeling young and alive and excited just because i was taking the trolley through the tunnel.

i remember walking illegally through that tunnel with a boy.

i remember doing other illegal things.