SAN FRANCISCO SERIES 1 - All I had left was a fragment, a fading memory of the melody we once made together. A ghost song that haunted the empty spaces of my chest, playing just quietly enough that I couldn't ignore it but not clearly enough to truly hear it anymore. They say you never forget your favorite song. But what they don't tell you is how much it hurts when all you have left of it is the echo-when the record is broken, the notes scattered, and the person who sang it with you has become a stranger. What they don't tell you is that sometimes, the music stops too soon. And sometimes, you're left holding nothing but the silence where a symphony used to be. Started: July 30, 2021 End: November 3, 2021

San Francisco 2 I told myself that love didn't have to be claimed to be real-that it could exist quietly, responsibly, without demanding reciprocity or recognition. That it could live in the margins of someone's life without needing to colonize the center. That wanting could be enough, that proximity could sustain, that almost could be a destination rather than a direction. That was the lie I lived in. The comfortable fiction I wrapped around myself like a blanket, even as it slowly suffocated me. Because loving her felt like holding a glass already cracked-invisible fractures spider-webbing through its structure, waiting for the slightest pressure to complete their destruction. Careful. Gentle. Every touch calibrated to preserve rather than possess. Knowing it would eventually break anyway, that entropy always wins, that fragile things are called fragile for a reason. Still, I held on.