For the past 48-hours I have been rocking the shit out of the long weekend. It’s Memorial Day here in the states, and Lord, I need a bloody holiday. I have taken the last
week of June off, it’s the first holiday I’ve had in over a year. I haven’t made any plans yet. But since I live near the dock in Manhattan – I’m contemplating hopping on a cruise ship and sailing away for a week.
Yesterday I went on a picnic with someone I love. Picnics make me happy. I traveled all the way to the north-side of Central Park, up at 110th Street. When you live in New York City, traveling from 59th to 110th is like flying from New York to Chicago. Far.
The different dynamics of this island fascinate me. Every block is another solar system. While I try 
to never take it for granted, you really do become immune to the daily wonders after awhile. If this ever starts to happen, I read through old posts – when I was springing back after a decade away. Then I replay the past few hours in my head. Because where ever you are, really, every second holds a story.
And I have absorbed quite a few being back here for the past 20 months.
I started to think about where I’ll end up next before. Then I looked at some recent pictures to remind me why, for now, I’m perfect where I’m at. Then I went back to my novel…
Oh Darling, looks lovely…there is no doubt that NY is amazing and I dare say no matter how long you live there, you shall always find something new. I miss you xoxoxo
after the meanest winter i recall in years, the magic of the outdoors is working wonders. i miss you too, so terribly. x