Today is another birthday. Last year, I was sailing around the south Caribbean. This year, I have a soul sister from Australia beside me. It’s five in the morning, we’re on our way to Central Park.
Yesterday, the luthier decided he needs some space. I guess this has been unravelling since I last popped into these parts.
Some things I save for poetry. But trust me, that one hurt. Yet another one bites the dust.
In a few hours I’ll be having French pastries and black coffee in Soho. Tonight I plan on dancing to samba.
You never know what a birthday will bring. Here’s to year 38.