“Dirt wanted”–a sign in a window of a salon. In less than a week I have seen two pet parrots here–two more than in Providence. The colors are like in Wes Anderson movies–a faded t-shirt from the 70s with brown and orange and light blue and a palm tree, but then there will be a saturated green you can sink into a little, and that overgrows the scene. Dreadlocks, big knitted sweaters with spacey wales, loose loops. Thin skittish men with sideburns who install your internet and take back the rented van. I feel I’m suspended from something that stays hovering above me.

Google still thinks I’m in Rhode Island.