the ugliness of condos with mediocre colors that cannot change the past

When PJ asked me to help move a grill from the condo, i assumed he was retrieving his; turns out he had sold the place, was closing in four days and the last renters left it behind. On his suggestion, we took one last walk around. He experienced many memories there, including sexual escapades that he should never tell his wife, and while i also shared similar escapades mine were not fond. Instead they served to underline that year of being lost, in shock, and having unprotected sex with any woman who'd have me in hopes of catching something fatal, to finish what i had failed to do by my own hand. Alas, HIV is not as ubiquitous as i had thought. So, i resolved to use what had been my temporary home for eleven months as a lesson. i stood in what was my bedroom, and took this:

It is the wall i woke up to each morning for eleven months, with all of my possessions stacked against it, and the photo of ExA with The Land given to me for my 35th birthday. That wall, my trespass, the short sighted view of my marriage are all memories i do not want to forget, for fear of getting that full of myself again.