Long Read
portland
the city hums beneath my wheels, a rhythm i half-remember. neon signs bleed into alleyways where shadows linger like old stories. i trip here not for escape but for the clam shuffle of strangers and the weight of my own unsaid fears. today’s coffee steam clings to my jacket-the kind that remembers too much. even the rats seem to whisper secrets through sidewalk cracks, but i’ll ignore their chorus. here, time isn’t a line but a puddle reflecting fragments i can’t quite grasp. it’s messy, but i keep moving, though. the sky’s bruised over east, but that’s just the sky’s mood, not mine. i’ll leave footprints, then let them dissolve into the pavement’s embrace.