I would like
to be one of those people
who update regularly
so here I am.
Way past bedtime, not tired. Two days of sweltering heat, of sticky humidity and a woman leaned against my arm in the subway today, sweat made the back of her shirt damp, warm moist cotton pushed against my skin. Stepped into a near-empty train car on the upper west and the AC was busted in there, it smelled just like in a sauna. Not of sweat. Of material slowly fizzing in combustion.
The dark days come. Eventually, they pass. Suburbia beckons with its quiet calm, its placid satisfaction. But over a 5th avenue lunch, my friend said he was done with this City and its expensive callousness, and my heart fired up in protectiveness. It is still my sweet love of a city, after all.
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