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Night makes for such delicious confession. Only the warm insomniacs inside, writing their muses into weary pages, and those few in the cold beyond. Who use the dark to play their own games deep past the witching hour. Inside is music, coffee, and self reflection. This three-year asana is drawing to its close. Existential tendons have already begun to draw into something different. Steeling for the years abroad. I’m headed overseas.

Or rather, I’m headed overseas properly. For three years properly. Katherine will be enrolled at the London School of Economics for the next three years. It’s her own asana. Hard-won, and ending in a PhD. And so, as things move for her, so they shall for me. Jumping together, albeit uncoordinatedly, into something new. With some luck, and benevolence from people who sit on committees, I may yet be a student too. If not, then I’ll find a different path. It’s something I’m good at.

Are these muscles ready? Will I be able to move in a new, strange manner?

Still, new asanas are always filled with trepidation. Are these muscles ready? Will I be able to move in a new, strange manner? Readjusting little by little until there is nothing left but to commit. The moment where preparation and balance must step out into the air of faith and make it work. Where muscles find strength, and the air once drawn in tension becomes the rhythm and balance that holds the new shape.

The days empty out and life begins to shift. With every minute of packing and the nostalgia of each book and journal removed from the emptying shelves, the next asana draws nearer.