the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: italia (page 5 of 9)

day 15. come mi betide.

come mi betide

ho assaggiato l’oceano
quando ho baciato lui
e ha salvato la mia vita. Continue reading

day 13. “two”.

Two (an excerpt)

“We kiss in Sperlonga,” he promises. “…my voice is F flat, it’s terrible. I know this.”

“I only dream of you,” I tell him. “Every night. Every night, I dream of your touch.”

“Every dream, I feel your touch.” Continue reading

day twelve. sperlonga.

951ca755-e9f6-46ed-ba81-a3dcf0181c82So it’s 8am on Friday. Here are my top ten stats of the day, it’s been a minute since a top ten.

Top ten stats of Friday so far.

10. The amount of minutes it took me to get myself out of bed.

9. The number of dreams I had about the luthier last night.

8. The current time.

7. The number of texts I’ve swapped with the luthier so far today. Continue reading

day eleven. i hate everything.

I’m hanging on by a thread blog tribe.

Right now I’m listening to Vinicio Capossela. I spent the morning wandering around the east river and exchanging a few “we will always be together” messages.

Saremo sempre insieme…

I moped around my apartment. I’ll go to work soon.

Work is actually helping. I’m all about distraction as a coping mechanism, huge fan.

Meanwhile, my heart has copped a historic beating. The weekend was beyond terrible. I don’t really feel like doing anything besides counting days. That’s essentially what I’ve been doing. Counting days and studying Italian. Hopefully I can speak a few licks when I leave.

In another 19 dreadful days. Continue reading

day three (timezones in my head)

It’s day three out of thirty something that my boyfriend is super far away.

I’ve been frantically consulting my international family from bases including France and England while also reaching out to Colorado and Boston.

I’m also trying to stay on the luthier’s clock, which is six hours ahead of mine – at the moment. Rome time.

Yesterday a Harlem associate came through to smoke cigars, drink Italian beer and talk about life. You just never know where you will land during the mysterious stroll of existence. Continue reading

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