Where once I could look out the window, accross the garden (as it was on the balcony also but it has turned into a cold lifeless thing), and see the busy street corner, reminding me of the life outside; now I am their window. Sometimes I'm deliberately indecent, as if to say "I was here first, you look away". Though the east view remains (barely) unchanged, I operate out of the west. Family ties made my inclusion in the building possible and things started to fall apart when the knots were first severed. It was to be expected but I fought to be the last man standing; an empty victory, as it turns out. My close friends have all been either attached or thrown out of this place; I cannot confide in any of them about it without bringing back past scars to life (though I literally live with those scars still, as they perhaps still do, at a distance). But for the record, these halls were mine to begin with and I did behave accordingly. You must understand that this isn't simply turning one page to another; the coming years are (perhaps necessary) illegible in-between pages. The amount of change is forcing me into seperate lives (and I'm terribly shaken by this), quoting myself out of here: "oh imminent collapse". [abandon/adoption theory still at play]