mother new york made sourpatch halloween costumes #gameover
people i met in another city part 3
“i worked at the world bank,” she tells him and then smiles. “as a teller.”
he doesn’t laugh.
people i met in another city part 4
there is a space that exists between departure and belonging, post-arrival. this is where she lives.
there is another space that exists between the decision to depart and the physical act, a space that is made all the more sacred when sudden. this is where she lived, with him.
she remembers it as follows: november, night, a party. she has barely stepped off the plane, barely been offered a new life on a new coast. she is exhausted. it is only guilt that brings her to the party.
she doesn’t notice him at first, too wrapped up in greeting the sea of familiar faces. more description and then, there he is, extending his hand and accelerating her heartbeat.
"i’m name," he says, and here she can’t remember anything, as if his presence in that moment rendered all other details inconsequential.
sit in back of car on the way back to her apt and she finds herself smiling at the irony of a nascent attraction as her time in the city draws to a close.
sunlight, and water. shivering sips of champagne at the park, and finally the glittering horizon of a city that is threading splinters through her heart, merely by existing. she reaches for him, to hold on, and he presses her body into his as if he understands. “dinner?” he finally suggests, and she nods into his chest.
they grin at each other over the empty plates and the empty glasses, thrilled to have inexplicably found each other here, in the euphoric eye of the storm, the momentary calm between the tumultuous past and the looming responsibilities of the future.
she wants to preserve this amber moment forever, wants to memorize the curve of his smile, the reflected lights dancing in his eyes, the private world they’ve conjured, against so many odds, at the very last moment.
he holds her hand as they walk towards an apartment that neither of them call home. it is warm, and the sidewalk smells of wine.
a streetlight on south van ness casts shadows underneath the angularity of his jaw and across the planes of his back as the city shifts subtly around them, a violent undercurrent seeping into superficial domestic tranquility.
"Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really."
- H Milk
follow your heart
"When you become comfortable with uncertainty, infinite possibilities open up in your life… fear is no longer a dominant factor in what you do, and no longer prevents you from taking action to initiate change."
— E Tolle