To: this particular shade of blue.

After a long day of classes, I'm sitting in the student building, having fast food for dinner and waiting for one of my students to meet with me for a few minutes to discuss a project. This spring twilight begs for a colour, any colour; and there are streaks like dried up tears on the outside of the large glass pane. There is a couple behind me thinking themselves out of my peripheral sightline and heavily making out on a couch. Outside looks like darkness slamming down on brakes, the trees are years-old paint brushes, unused for some time now. I don't know why the seasonal chimes on the main campus clock have suddenly become more-than-a-minute-long love songs.

I've lost some weight, but seem to have lately lunged into a less healthy approach to my eating habits. My fasting seems to be more of a custom of not eating, a tradition that is occurring without me having much to do with it all. My prayer has been much more consistent after having gotten confession yesterday, but I feel disconnected from the entire practice of fasting. It may take some time to get back into that space.

I have confronted myself with my lack of thinking and writing creatively since I've been here, and really challenging myself from this month to change that. to change my approach, my attitude, my resistance and hesitation towards self.

I'm about to turn numbers soon, and very much in a place of transition. a time to critically look at my life, the changes that have taken place in the last year, and to decide on how do i treat with these things. I planned on going out with a group of people, but I think it be best if I just take the day to myself. To think. to write. to plan. I'm usually not a people person around this time either. There is a greyness of April that I've known.

By now the street lights are on, my student is more than half hour late, and three men have assembled on my left to discuss what it means to be 'revolutionary' and where does it cross with ones' ego. The couple have resorted to sleeping in each others arms, and the crepe-paper sky has wrapped away the trees away in its creases. wish it would me too.