It’s been 19 days since I saw a car with the license plate reading ETHOS in sharp black letters. The man inside was lunching on a juicy apple (it might have been brunch, for clearly I don’t know his eating schedule, but the fruit was definitely juicy since I detected a fine mist scatter about the windshield as he hungrily bit into the flesh.) his beard was white and gruff and I noticed that he looked content with not only his current situation but also with his place in life.

Partly against my will and partly with its cooperation, I eventually began to think of him as a Cherry Hill East alumnus. Perhaps it was the eccentricity of the whole situation that led me to believe this, but I’m not sure. The gentleman seemed rather wise, so why not have such bold license plates and such nutritious meal? Perhaps it was because he mastered his identity. And as I cross-referenced the school with perceptions of my mushrooming character, yielding images of me speed walking down the hallways, reflecting in classrooms, and philosophizing in bathrooms, I realized that this was true. And I became grateful.

A few hours ago, I planted a kidney bean named Raul in the makeshift garden in front of our house. I squatted near him for approximately 9 minutes, trying to gauge how comfortable he was with his new setting. I left after realizing that sometimes you just have to let things go. I am currently writing this on my roof, under a warm sun. Fruit flies seem to be attracted to me. A small child cries, “And why is he on the roof again? How is he going to get down?” The mother ushers him into the house without a word. 89 days until graduation.