i got up early. i have scratches across my hand. diary of losses. diary of treasures. treasures of moments rather than lifetimes, brief encounters. one-second glances, two-minute touches. is what counts these days. realizing you cannot hold on to anything. what you thought was true only yesterday turns around and tells you you were so wrong. i am ready to accept this. "we can only change what we accept", says jung. the world keeps spinning and moving further away from the center and my arms stretch longer, more desperately. i am writing for you, i seem to understand you better than i understand myself.