I’ve come this far with a different map in each of my hands.

They’re drawn completely from memory.

One takes me home, one takes me nowhere in particular.

I always seem to pick the path with all the shortcuts open, and the lines and the circles more steadily drawn.

(I guess there’s only one more way to go.)

I always seem to say the things that I had promised I would leave unspoken and act surprised when they come tumbling out into the air and sounding wrong.

(We’ve all been way too far away from home.)