Mirror
Hello! Welcome to week eight. (Nine? Eight. Nine?)
It’s not that I have nothing to report from my room. It’s that a lot of the information is not of the nature that should be printed. When you live with people for four years, there is a proximity to their private lives that is at first unsettling, then comforting, then integrated, which is to say their private lives become so entangled with yours that you begin to take on parts of their personalities. When my roommates and I talk, dress or gesture like one another, we call this “leaking,” as though are bodies are closed vessels that are breaking open at the seams and contaminating one another. Gross, right?