Preface/disclaimer/warning: I was young, eighteen, and generally terrified of life. These are the days that I sketch and shelve in my head, the days I can trace a line around earth and sky, green and blue, the toy farm house at the side the plastic animals. I’ve laid on this chess square and yellowed the grass below me for 18 days and he hasn’t come. The line smudges. The animals unscrew their heads screaming.