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I looked at apartment listings today. It always happens when the Spring comes, when May approaches, when the itch returns. I wrote a hundred to do lists and most of them only said to throw everything out. None of these things matter, anyway. So long as you have ink, so long as you have your trusty coffee cup, so long as you have a window with a view and magic in your chest, so long as the dream of New York beats wildly in your heart what else could you possibly need?

The sun did not shine today as I had decided. But in apartment listings, in white painted walls and brick fireplaces near Tompkins Square Park, in futures yet untold and better views from a writing window, somehow it was already spring. When the sun returns,
I will be ready.