Through the window, I see the empty New Year's street, asphalt dry and white with cold, void of cars and sidewalk scattered with salt. The doge and I stand at the glass, my breath shaping clouds of vapor in the air, and consider our lack of options, steeling ourselves for the stinging chill as I open the door to let us out into the night.
One year ago: She Doesn't Have Pockets
Two years ago: Could Be Into More Than One Thing
Three years ago: Salty Teeth
Four years ago: I Believe You Have Something Of Mine
Six years ago: A New Kind of New Year
Seven years ago: We Ended Up Straightening Up a Little
Ten years ago: A Tiger, A Jacket