In the process of packing/arranging my clutter into enigmatic piles/making a giant mess of the apartment, I came across my boyfriend, Nick's, one-eyed stuffed dog from childhood. Last year, Bernard stowed away in my luggage when I went to Europe, his little bean-bag frame slumped over in the foreground of many photos of Parisian landmarks. Nick found him sitting on top of the "return to Nick's house" pile. He offered to send him off with me to Athens. I prefer the idea of Bernard in Nick's room at his new place, one-eyed sentry over Nick's records, books, his bed, the rooftop under his window, and the Columbus streets below.
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