there was a girl who quaked at the thought of big city life. she still hibernates late at night in her small bed, but the landscape has changed. she's seen paris, she's ridden the A train, she's taken a bus through the atlas mountains in morocco, a budget flight to stockholm in the dead of winter, a train to grenada from a dismal spanish port town, a van ride to chichen itza (Chi'ch'èen Ìitsha'). she is no longer tethered to quiet suburban life, dreaming in tactile realities, oren's cappucinos on weekday mornings, blue sky muffins at midday, throbbing calves from pacing the streets of a city humming with life.
yesterday, amanda, tears in her eyes, spoke of the worst in her life coinciding. i told her that it was going to snow. today, the sky is clear.
tomorrow, possibility.
