The poor November man sees fire and wind and mist and rain and winter air

The light changed in the morning and I dreamed of watching a film about a folksinger who as far as I know is still alive, although it had the color and grain of home movies from the '60's and the pattern of hindsight. At one point there was a child in the audience of the folk club, flickering like a flaw in the film or light through leaves. It was his younger or his future self; their fingers touched and the music stopped.

We have not quite finished moving, but the majority of our possessions are now in the new apartment, still in boxes but now theoretically capable of being unpacked. Between the third and fourth rounds, the front doorknob came off in my hand: it had cracked in half. We replaced it. I'm not sure of the symbolism, but it didn't seem restrained. The former doorknob was brass and verdigris and I remain a little sorry to have lost it because it made your hands smell like very old pennies, but in its successor's favor, we can now use the front door again.

I don't like feeling that it's too late to enjoy even the idea of a home when what's left of the future is about to disappear. Nonetheless, I registered to vote at our new address the afternoon we signed the lease. Af tselokhes.