Hey baby we're in a different place again. These disheveled beds and unleveled grounds, the light that break through the window and marble floor unfamiliar to the toes. Hey baby tomorrow we'll be under a different ceiling again. "Who are you really?" "Are you ok with it?" As long as we do some Shaman rain dance to break the grounds, and keep Kendrick Lamar on repeat, and you never cut your hair, and we keep it real, and keep it weird. I can see New York in my eyes already. I'm in the office but my heart is in flight, and I remember every time descending in, the concrete grid city that glisten like broken glass and metal. "Do you think you'd want to go to Mars on a one way ticket?" "Don't you think we moved to Beijing for the same reasons? To be the first?" "No, I'm not going to Mars, I just wanna eat good food. I still have to go to Japan and try oxy-cotin." "Do you think I missed the train on that one?" "No, you're perfect." "It must be cool to see the rings of Saturn from the surface." I love the images that unfold when we talk. Like the storms of Saturn consorting with baby strollers in Solana. Half of the time I think I've entered a set. These spaces that shift and change, the only constant is your face in the dark, and I'll hold on to it just in case, Mars, Saturn, Kepler 22b and beyond.

NYC 2013. Where it's at.