this is my eighth semi-permanent bed in two years.
when i think of comfort and rest it isn’t here, or possibly anywhere. nothing comes to mind specifically.
the siesta in madrid eats away my day, everything closes up shop, including people.
last year when i was at my most sad i would spend entire days in my dorm room, sitting in the same spot on my bed. reading and writing poems sometimes, other times just watching mold grow on food i couldn’t stomach nor throw away. the smog in hangzhou blocked out all genuine sunlight, what made it to my window felt like an imitation.
this year i watch sunlight flood in my window every morning. i no longer have made a sanctuary out of my bed. i have nothing i desire to escape from.