Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Nine
The first thing on my mind.
It should be a short day, though I wish it would last a little longer.
One cup of concession-stand coffee under a soupy sky.
A nap.
Rosemary Cakebread and Chris Howell.
“Beauty makes me dream.”
They make you remember one of the reasons you’re here in the first place. Because, like them, you believe that there could be and should be a future for anyone and everyone who wants to live and work here.
He tells me that I need to experience what I am experiencing now, but now I should go back to the people. He lists a few names—names I already know—and that’s where I can begin.
Margarita, salad, and steak frites with her at the bar.
Dreams.
