The Last Night

When you live somewhere for thirteen years, you never fully realize how much shit you accumulate. It took every weekend for a month to pack and organize everything. And unless you are a hoarder who proudly displays their bountiful belongings in plain sight and in every crevice of your home imagineable, it can be a great big surprise to see what's been stuffed into drawers and closets and storage units. Sadly, there weren't many pleasant or useful discoveries, like, "Oh! That's where I put that million dollars!". More like boxes and boxes I filled and marked with my Super Sharpie "GS", which doesn't stand for good stuff, it stands for garage sale. And one hell of a garage sale it will be. Funny. I know I should take the stuff to the trash, but it's good junk and someone might give me money for it.

Towards the end of the packing I just wanted to set everything on fire.

Moving day was interesting. I thought it would take the movers four hours. Nine hours and two separate trips in the truck it was done. Completely insane. It was sad to see the empty space. And I did shed a tear. But just one.

The night before we left, I went upstairs to the rooftop that I will miss on those hot summer nights and took these...