046/100 • NEW YORK
Aspiring aunties
have sparkling conversations,
sangria in hand.
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Aspiring aunties
have sparkling conversations,
sangria in hand.
For ideas and
creative inspiration,
just pay attention.
A knowing glance, shared
with a stranger on the street —
then chaos resumes.
A darkening sky,
a rumble in the distance,
a bolt of lightning.
Flickering neon
and the tinkle of a bell
as the door opens.
Writing is crafting,
editing is alchemy,
reading is magic.
A long curl of steam
rises from a coffee cup
into the cool air.
Unexpected time
outside on a perfect day —
breathing in deeply.
Independence Day —
a strange anniversary
that’s only for me.
Sights and smells and sounds —
the sidewalk is an assault
on all the senses.
Found a stray eyelash
on my cheek and couldn’t think
of what to wish for.
Golden hour shadows:
late-day silhouettes mark the
early evening.
Call it bad timing
or a special talent for
choosing the long line.
Saturday 6 train:
errands, work, sightseeing. Me?
I’m people-watching.
Suddenly summer,
or so it would seem — if not,
why am I sweating?
Coffee with ice and
macadamia nut milk:
the taste of summer.
New slices of light
in familiar spaces
that used to feel dark.
They say it’s good luck
when you’re the chosen target
of a pigeon’s bomb.
Outside my window
I can see a thousand more
staring back at me.
Many good stories
begin with a heart-shaped lock —
Do you have the key?