Friday, June 20, 2008
I'll do graffiti if you sing to me in French / What are we doing here if romance isn't dead
A few shots of my favorite graffiti in NYC.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
You and I must make a pact / We must bring salvation back
It was autumn... Or was it spring?
It was a season, anyhow. The kind that echoes in the beauty of uncertainty.
The scent in the air is change, and the wind speaks it around you, through whispers to howls.
I guess, what I'm saying, is that it was just a day. Like every other day.
The kind with schedules that never quite work precisely, and tasks that never get fully accomplished. With doldrums turned to excitement, or bliss turned to frenzy.
Around every corner is a ghost, a demon, an angel, or a clown.
There was a boy, like every boy. The ones like you date in high school or college. The kind who haven't quite figured out how to be a man yet, but think they have.
The kind that take their permanent markers and sketch their initials all over your soul, just like they mark their book bags with their favorite band names -- not thinking, just doing, because it means something to them right then and there, and they think it will forever. And maybe, in a way, it will.
In this season of any season, on this day like every day, with this boy like every boy, I found love. Maybe it was love like any love, but I sure thought it was extraordinary love. And maybe this love un/like any love was to be forever. Or maybe, just like every other girl, I just thought so.
Anyway you have it, there was a day in a season, and I was a girl in love with a boy. If anything is eternal from that scenario, it will at least be the memory of the feeling of the moments when he kissed me or those when he looked into my eyes and told me how true he was and would be forever.
Our idea of "forever" changes as we grow up. When we were kids we thought forever might be until we were 10, and when we we were 18 we may have thought it would be until we were 30. Now, at close to 30, I know that nothing may be forever, except change. But the one thing constant about change is the memories that fluctuate through, whose weight may be heavy as iron or light as feathers, but always will be carried in this briefcase in our minds. It's hard to regret things we thought might be forever.
Because, in reality, the memories truly are, ensuring that the time we call "forever" will be somehow reached between us, whether we're holding hands or just holding hearts.
It was a season, anyhow. The kind that echoes in the beauty of uncertainty.
The scent in the air is change, and the wind speaks it around you, through whispers to howls.
I guess, what I'm saying, is that it was just a day. Like every other day.
The kind with schedules that never quite work precisely, and tasks that never get fully accomplished. With doldrums turned to excitement, or bliss turned to frenzy.
Around every corner is a ghost, a demon, an angel, or a clown.
There was a boy, like every boy. The ones like you date in high school or college. The kind who haven't quite figured out how to be a man yet, but think they have.
The kind that take their permanent markers and sketch their initials all over your soul, just like they mark their book bags with their favorite band names -- not thinking, just doing, because it means something to them right then and there, and they think it will forever. And maybe, in a way, it will.
In this season of any season, on this day like every day, with this boy like every boy, I found love. Maybe it was love like any love, but I sure thought it was extraordinary love. And maybe this love un/like any love was to be forever. Or maybe, just like every other girl, I just thought so.
Anyway you have it, there was a day in a season, and I was a girl in love with a boy. If anything is eternal from that scenario, it will at least be the memory of the feeling of the moments when he kissed me or those when he looked into my eyes and told me how true he was and would be forever.
Our idea of "forever" changes as we grow up. When we were kids we thought forever might be until we were 10, and when we we were 18 we may have thought it would be until we were 30. Now, at close to 30, I know that nothing may be forever, except change. But the one thing constant about change is the memories that fluctuate through, whose weight may be heavy as iron or light as feathers, but always will be carried in this briefcase in our minds. It's hard to regret things we thought might be forever.
Because, in reality, the memories truly are, ensuring that the time we call "forever" will be somehow reached between us, whether we're holding hands or just holding hearts.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
I want to be a part of it, in old New York
I went to NYC over the last weekend of May. It was awesome.
A toast to Manhattan
Brooklyn Bridge
Who said you need a garden gnome?
Saint Anthony, Little Italy
A healthful breakfast in Little Italy
Crepe, almost ready for my consumption
Eagerly awaiting my pineapple-strawberry-nutella crepe
More later!!!
A toast to Manhattan
Brooklyn Bridge
Who said you need a garden gnome?
Saint Anthony, Little Italy
A healthful breakfast in Little Italy
Crepe, almost ready for my consumption
Eagerly awaiting my pineapple-strawberry-nutella crepe
More later!!!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Baby, I'm not always there when you call, but I'm always on time
I love my PI because he sends me emails while he's in meetings. This is why iPhones could be a horrible, very bad invention... You thought we weren't paying attention before?
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