9am to 9pm; Anacortes to the San Juan Islands and back. The weather is turning and so are the tides. When I’m wary of the waves I remember that the destination is fixed. And that the waves are what color the experience.
you feel so happy and sated that you don’t understand how the chills of emotion running down your spine have not yet left through the open window and spilled down the sides of your apartment building onto the street and into the sewer openings that line the boulevard
I have been spending my time looking for patches of sunlight to spend my time. When I find them I settle in and smile when the warmth kisses my cheek. I have been doing so well.
Do you feel me here like I feel the friendly damp of east meadow?
Yesterday I walked down Madison Avenue. My hair was still dripping from the salon and I felt important.
I dread the changing of the season. Maybe it will surprise me with sweetness. Winter is the antithesis of the things that make up my skin, but light from new friends has already warmed me from the inside out.
I want to throw up from the vivacity of it all. I am sensitive to the colors and their noises for the first time since utero.
On the days you feel like you can only see through your eyes, go and sit by the window. I am telling you this because it took me a long time to learn. Let the sun warm you through the pane and let the words leave you like breath.
it cuts the tops of my hands and chokes the colors in my throat.
in the morning my mind is bright throughout the day, revolving in the evenings, mush in the dead of night, keen