( via / via )

Welcome to Crescent City.

the bright lights · & the little pains
constellate flow · flense my vector
arrive at coign · that's a carven cloud
genius declare · a jest stifled
nor await reck · hutch perilous
ahoy to the pert · quay of encounter

Hainin.

"I have good reason to believe that a jog-trot life, the same from day to day, would reconcile one to anything. One don't see anything, one don't hear anything, one don't know anything; that's the fact. We go on taking everything for granted, and so we go on, until whatever we do, good, bad, or indifferent, we do from habit. Habit is all I shall have to report, when I am called upon to plead to my conscience, on my death-bed. 'Habit,' says I, 'I was deaf, dumb, blind, and paralytic, to a million things, from habit.' 'Very business-like, indeed, Mr What's-your-name,' says Conscience, 'but it won't do here!' " --Dombey and Son

Luminous Signals.