I'm so embarrased. Every time that I dream about New York now, I dream about going or having to get to H&M. I mean, I really OUGHT to be thinking loftier thoughts, oughtn't I? Last night I dreamed I only had like three hours in the city, and my first thought was, "It's just enough time to shop."
This weekend I was at a bookshop of sorts that had many postcard books filled with pictures of New York from many different time periods, and I found myself moved to tears. I am a tiny stone in its mosaic. I have one more love story to tell. That was the corner where he left me. That was the park where I gave my heart. This is the pavement I sat on for hours, waiting for an audition. I know that corner. I know that park. The pavement knows my longing. I am a note in this opera. I am forgotten and I cannot forget.