The thing is,
you haven't the words.
The thing is, you should have so much to say and instead you are left with silent awe, with the feeling that you cannot actually put words to the jumble of peace and joy inside you. I walked down 14th street last night after the rains, and it was like I could breathe for the first time in months. How does one put words to that?
New York simmers in me like a perfect symphony, when everywhere else is the mess of instruments being tuned. It is at once the familiarity of home and the possibility of something new, it is the reminder of seventeen years of building a life that cannot be taken from me, it is a giggle.
I make my preparations for other adventures, look to the desert for undiscovered roads, look to the world for undiscovered melodies, yes. But one day I will yearn for the philharmonic again.
And then I will know where to go.
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