thirty-five

 

Clerkmanifesto is going context free for 100 days!

While I retire from 31 years at the Roseville Library, sell nearly everything I own, fly with my darling wife to Japan for 40 days, and then move together to France to start to build a life there, I present a less explained clerkmanifesto, a clerkmanifesto of snapshots and time travel. Below you may see old posts without introduction from my 4,750 post collection. You may see random photos, brand new or years old. I may write a passage about Japan as if of course you know I'm in Japan, I may make a simple observation or joke, but whatever it is, I won't be explaining it. You'll have to take it as it comes.

For more context you are welcome to read this longer introduction.

And if this is all too confusing I welcome you to investigate our thousands of fully explained historic posts from the past 12 years, though I'll be the first to admit, hours later, you may still come away a little confused.

Here, however it works, is what clerkmanifesto has for you today:

The day you read this will be me and my darling wife's last day in America, at least for a very long time.

But as I write this it is just the day before I retire.

And...

On the night before my last day of work at the library I took a shower.

I felt sad. 

I was not sad to be retiring. I don't exactly know what makes me sad.

Leaving?

Ending?

The passage of time?

I got out of the shower and saw myself in the mirror. In the center of my chest was what looked like the finest of pure white feathers. As I pinched it in my fingers I realized it was a patch of hair, pure white, on my chest.

And everything ends and begins again.

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Last morning in Minnesota with everything we own in this world…