The haze that seeps into various corners of a city, white streets, blind corners. Standing by a window on the 27th floor, I imagine it as a life-sized Etch a Sketch. I want to draw a new city, a new life. This is it, a slate wiped clean. or a drive to a new corner of the city. for the sake of. A tiny restaurant in a cottage. I'll have the collard greens, no the vegan ones. I'm vegetarian. I empty my pockets and the next day they are full of coins, receipts, ticket stubs. Time, time, time, the restless tick of it. Ten years ago today, I was twenty. I was lying on the grass on the main green by Faunce Arch, contemplating the possibilities of then which became the reality of now. A conversation. A boy who likes me and doesn't know how to show it punches me on the shoulder. It is easier to laugh like you don't go home and think about things. It is easier to make a joke when you are angry. it is easier to let someone off the hook when perhaps they shouldn't be let off the hook. It is hard to hold a grudge, I've learned. It requires more effort than I can put in these days. At the bowl, an orange moon like a peace offering. All right, I concede, there is nothing left to say when you are faced with unreasonable beauty. Or unbearable longing. Like for water. I decided when I was 15 that the worst way to die was to die of thirst. There are many kinds of thirst. Varieties that I didn't even know of when I was 15. Of course this is how it is. This is how it always was.