the brooklyn flea.

in the warmer months, it occupies a stretch of williamsburg hugging the river with a view of the city 

for days. what i really wanted was a 1930s hand-stitched blouse; i ended up with a salted chocolate 

chip cookie ice cream sandwich instead. seeing as it tasted like summertime, i wouldn't call it settling. 

a postcard

full of things no one told me.  

a friend of a friend moved to the city this week and i've been pondering what this means for her by way of, nearly two years ago now, all that it meant for me. how unprepared i was for the many tiny details of a life here; how nothing anyone could have said would have readied me anyway.  

from what i can tell, building a life here, like anywhere else, i suppose, is full of steps and missteps; sometimes more questions than answers. the fight for the job; the hunt for the home; the finding of place. the sounds, the strangers, the conditions of anonymity. and slowly, steadily, surely, it comes: often in bits, sometimes in pieces, the arsenal of beautiful details that define life in new york. things that no one could have told me; things i would rather have discovered on my own anyway. 

  like that nothing in this world smells so lovely as new york after the rain. that the b train doesn't come on weekends. that i should walk everywhere, or risk missing it. that restaurants are often cash-only. that winter would suit me. that i'd think the subway strangely beautiful. that sometimes i'd need to escape the city for a weekend. that i'd tear up at first sight of the skyline on the way back. that i don't need as much space as i once thought. that sidewalk flower stands would take my breath away. that i'd befriend souls i couldn't have dreamed up. that i'd fall wildly, unabashedly in love with this place. that i might never leave.

thursday, thankful.

for daydreams

…and for the places they take me

for the simple beauty of mismatched dishes

for beloved nicknames

for park bench sittin'

for tidy, cheerful window boxes

…and for the caring souls that tend them

for strawberries + nutella, and all the problems they can fix

for friends that insist i start from the beginning.

artie's.

along with everyone else in manhattan (it seems), i've got a bit of a cold. artie's 

sounds appetizing when nothing else does, and this is the week when having

 matzo soup and a chocolate shake two nights in a row makes perfect sense. 

fun curls your hair and the days open wide.

on the way home: pizza and sangria to share. it was the the first al fresco dinner yet this year and
just the thing to do after a lazy morning brunch and breezy afternoon in the sun. in our search for
summer, we're setting a high saturday standard; somehow, nobody seems to mind.




(title lyrics by the tallest man on earth)

saturday.

'twas a day of lemon pancakes and bare feet, fresh freckles and peach tea. summer on our skin. 

a postcard

from that spring i was 24. 

i've been thinking a lot lately about what life, specifically life at 24, looks like for me: 

how i fill my days, the dreams i dream, the wishes i make, those silly, small moments

 that make life so sweet, what i'll remember about it all when i'm a little more grown

 up, a little more seasoned, maybe in a different place entirely. and then a friend sent 

this* my way and, well, it pretty much sums things up. 

“she did not need much, wanted very little. a 

kind word, sincerity, fresh air, clean water, 

a garden, kisses, books to read, sheltering arms, 

a cosy bed, and to love and be loved in return.”

in all the world, has it ever been said better ? 

*[source: and then to my wonder...]