Wednesday, October 12, 2011

My love to you old life, my ode to those little moments of self in the big, bad City

I don’t always miss my old life. And yet...sometimes I do. I miss walking alone through the City and feeling alone. There is a peace in being completely unobserved, being one of millions, unknown, anonymous, mysterious maybe?  I miss having no one to report to. My time was mine alone. Boyfriends be damned. My iPod (1st generation) playing weird songs from some little surreal band that played the night before at Fred’s, like Songs to Drink and Drive By or Leah Siegel…waiting for the train, no one else on the platform for a second, singing, dancing around in that little teeny, tiny moment of quiet in the City.  

Ah, Maker's

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