It has been months since last I wrote. Sometimes you just have to be quiet for a while. and stew in the juice of being for awhile. Sometimes the awhile is a long spell of quiet. Its ok.
But this morning I am not going to the qym and meeting with every body who is determined to fight the good fight. the words were calling me and I was afraid they would leave if I left the house.
I went to New York. I went to New York and saw saw saw some paintings that I still think about. I have to still think about them because they are in my skin now. I breathed them in and now they are a part of me.
New York was back in January when the snow was a couple of feet deep and the air was freezing cold but it was sunny in Manhattan and it was so sunny that it was magical. New York in winter is unbelievably beautiful. Shocking blue sky. Buildings so elegant they hurt to look at. People so swathed in fur and cashmere and wool , that you are warmed with them. The men in their perfectly tailored suits and long coats and glamorous scarfs . New York is the most luscious city. The honk honk honking was like staccato violin adding to the energy of the city. The City.
that is why I couldn’t write for months. I went to the City.