Return to the apartment on 46th street, see it now like a hotel room with your things in it. Nothing looks like anything, and the space feels like a cubicle without life. On 22nd street, the buildings are low, the bricks have a comforting song to them, you take the long way round with the dog, she is thrilled. There's a Christmas tree in the apartment, an open bottle of red in the kitchen, your limbs are tired but your mind is full of joy, how can you possibly be sad about this.
Only a few days left to soak up the season. You are always a step behind, every year a step behind. You vow to spend the week a step ahead.
Vow to be better than you were the day before.
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