Ventured to Wisconsin recently, a land drifting between my past and present where I spent a brief time some years back. It seems permanently stopped for me at that time of day just before twilight, its skies always laden with fading, leafless trees, black and reaching. Endless wheat colored fields coat the earth there, and the onyx silhouettes of birds are constantly dotting blank skies. This place lingers somewhere between familiar and forgotten. It is a small reminder that I have spent the majority of my life living out of a suitcase of sorts, that I don't really belong anywhere, the only home I recognize beats inside of the chest cavity of a boy who is very far away.