Whenever I dye my hair, I get nostalgic. It must be the chemicals.

And it's always the chemicals, isn't it?

I remember the sun on my skin, my arms brown for the first time in 8 years, lying in the grass, playing with beads, smoking cigarette after cigarette, ignoring the bands playing a few hundred feet away from us. But I remember the way the sun felt right at that moment and I remember that I knew, right then and there, that I would always remember how the sun felt that day.

And late at night, out at clubs, and dancing for hours, and then standing on some corner of some street waiting for some bus to take us home... feeling the sun leave my skin, knowing it would return the next day, and warm me to my bones again. And it would be like this for months.

And, in a sense, I was courting myself- with music and words and drinks and chemicals. And all of those romantic gestures, the late nights and even later mornings, where nothing ended but everything began, and all at once... I would realize that there was nowhere else and no one else I'd rather be. And I was seduced, utterly and completely.

And this corpse that I drag around today... is it the city? Or is it all that wasn't or was-

Or is it me, the girl I courted and seduced but never spoke to again...