For the first time all winter, soft flakes fly to the ground in droves, although they turn quickly to water on the sidewalks. A little dusting of white remains on the citibikes. We went to the zoo yesterday and looked at the penguins, fed the sheep. I think she would have been just as happy just walking down the street. She spoke of her new home, a thousand miles away and I didn't know how to tell her what it's like to leave all this behind. There may come a time when she can tell people she grew up in New York but she'll no longer remember what it felt like. We sat on a bench and snuggled. I was glad there was nothing I could say.
They built a shrine two doors down from my apartment, at the theater where his latest show is on. Flowers and candles and yesterday when I came home a group of people stood singing. I find myself slowing down every time I pass, nodding slightly in his general direction. The flowers won't survive the snow.
There's a metaphor in there.
Don't look too close.
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