they don't bed down till night. still the ruffled feathers. calm them. settle every wisp and worry into it's place. long days of being together. of walking the long way, through the tuileries, because it is better and you only get one chance to be alive on this earth. dinner with the ny girls, who are really from other places. funny identifiers. my feet up in the grad room of the library with the windows open, my feet bare on the couch with the windows open. reshuffling expectations, identity, definition of happiness.
late. work lunch tomorrow. work day tomorrow. deep sighs on the sidewalk, waiting in the chest that aches with need it now, that aches with impatience and sweet greed. the ginko continues to leaf out, each small green face opening slowly to a polluted, sunny world.
running into people on the metro just to prove im there
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