30 Jan 2022

It is sunny and stark and drippy and I am without a hat, fumbling with the recyclables. My bare head flits with anxiety. The things I am not doing! The lives I am not living! The people I must disappoint. Which ocean does this energy wash into? Which urchins will it latch onto? Forgive me.

On a sunny day, piles of snow line the sidewalk where a person is passing in front of a building. The building, normally gray and white painted brick, displays the word “Dancefloor” in pink graffiti.

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