My sister comes to town. The temperature drops 40 degrees in a day, and we hurry our freezing limbs to favorite spots around the City. Christmas day every street is empty except Fifth avenue and the meandering hills of Central Park, where a hundred languages crowd with innumerable iPhones. How many times do they ask me to take their picture? I must look like I will not run off with their camera.
The words amass in scribbled notes and lingering dreams. Every night I go to bed tired, and content.
We make plans for the morning. They will keep, if we will it.
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Sifting through the Madness for the Word, the Line, the Way.
About Me
- Cajsa
- "If I can go to New York, live madly, and write. I will want for Nothing."
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