… I have no idea where I am and no idea where I’m going. How do I get home from here? Do I head north, through Canada? Do I try to find Ohio? Is Middletown home? My clothes and dishes and books are there, but beyond that I don’t really care if I ever go back. My job there is over; my love there is over. When I think of the East Coast all I see is a cavernous darkness, like a museum at night, streaked with fits of bluish-white light, the traces of tears and cum once shed in miscellaneous bedrooms, hotel rooms, parkways, forests, and cars.
Maggie Nelson, The Red Parts.