Deep within the hills of North Mingus, I lived in a nine-hundred square foot warehouse garage which I paid one hundred and forty dollars a month. It was the middle of January. The overwhelm and foreboding of which I felt those five years—to lay down low on the cold smooth cement of the garage was enough to send loneliness deep into my bones. The chill of the dark air blew under the crack of the door and through my skin.
It was like a frigid evil lurking out there, wanting to come inside and possess my room—possess me, enter me and destroy me.