Moved. It's the first time being in New York that I have my own room. Within four years, I've gone from adjacent beds, to a couch, to a curtain for a wall, and now an actual room. I've upgraded and I don't know what to do with myself. The possibilities really are endless.
Today I had chicken and rice for the second day in a row. I ate under a red sculpture thing, trying to count all the lights I saw, and hopping over rain puddles. Realizing now that I probably looked disturbed. The financial district is kind of beautiful. All the lights, it's like music, my version of wonderland.
Remembering this line from a short story I heard at a reading a few months ago. I can't remember exactly what the line was referring to, I think it was about soldering metal, but it was so poetic, and he said it so casually. "You've got to let it heal before you hit it again."