A day passes in heavy returns, in questions the kind that refuse answer, in longings that may never let themselves be answered. His incessant questions run you out of excuses, and your parents call to ask you for advice in their fumbling choices. Should we pick up and move all over again?
But then the sun rises on Avenue B, and you wake with the remains of a night on the Bowery on your shoulders, you wake with the light of your dream apartment on your eyelids. I take a long walk along the river and see familiar faces, this little village in the sea of a metropolis. A florist opens a pop-up shop around the corner, something is bubbling in the new dawn. For a moment, all I feel is peace.
The case to be made
for sticking around
is if you don't
You'll never know what dreams
may come.
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