The layout of of my new room is exactly the same as a room I lived in four years ago.
I’ve never lived in one city for more than five years at a stretch. Since moving to Portland in 2006, I’ve lived in six different rooms. I’ve stayed in SE while bouncing around like a pinball. Eastmoreland, Powell, Belmont.
Some of the objects around me stay the same, particularly books and clothes and taxidermied alligator heads, but most of them change. I believe in traveling light. I can’t mark time with objects, even the clock radios and broken wrist watches.
I mark time with space.
There will always be that year in the dorms, those two years in The Wimbledons, that summer half out, a year in the RCAs, the summer on Glenwood, a year on Powell next to the Chinese herbalist. This will always be the summer I lived on Belmont.
My five years are nearly up. Next year will be the Austin year, or the Chicago year, or the Andover year. I don’t know where there is yet. I just know it won’t be here.
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