And when I awoke I was alone. This bird has flown.

I have had a weekend of remembrance. Choosing to visit makes one a visitor. Staying away is wiser, but how is one to open one's wrists that way? How is one to push against the bruises to ensure they still hurt?

My choices are foolish but I am not stupid. I make these choices knowing better, which is entirely different than making bad choices with good expectations. I enter with the sense of impending doom and head toward the Pit anyway because it feels familiar.

We went for breakfast at Tim Hortons this morning. All the new immigrants I teach notice how much Canadians love their Tim Hortons. It's true. The only thing that's not good about Tims is their refusal to participate in the correct usage of apostrophes.

After that we went to the pet store and bought the puppies some chew treats. Upon our arrival home, they pounced upon the bag joyfully and began to chew. Since then they have completely ignored us both, caught up blissfully in a world made entirely of tastebud sensory experience. I'm almost jealous of their simple happiness. Sweet puppies.

We project a level of shallowness I find almost convincing, until I am alone with myself.