La Vie en Indigo

I got pudding for a backbone lol tmg!

You’re pushing longer distances while keeping effort steady and controlled

Quick - boil it into jam before the fruit flies lay their eggs in swarms over the bruised flesh gone past its ripeness. How do we cook it? Mash it? What is the pectin and sugar and sealing needed to make the preserves that will last through the seasons?

I walked among the rows of flowering trees in prospect park on a summer day in spring. Friends and families lounged in abundance. I passed a man splayed on a park bench laying down feet up. He played happy Spanish guitar on a speaker. He held up a book with words written in verse. A book of poetry on a summer day in spring. Just as I walked beyond him I hear him snort a hock a lougie into the grass behind him. And that, my friends, is New York City.

They wandered content to be alone thinking fondly of past company. They wandered past strangers and gave the best advice available to them and kept moving. They took the hidden path toward the water and the steep peak. At the top they gazed at the connecting patterns of the waterways throughout the marshes. Between two twigs they caught sight of a blue heron in the reeds below. Unseen they watched it for a time, both unmoving. The stillness was a boon, unpressured to gaze for long, they kept moving along their hill.

Did I forget to tell you they came again upon the crane? Descending the cliffs they trekked with their companion. Along the stones they crept the brush filled river bed. There they pointed out the heron across the waters, the person resting in the glade, stretching out its elegant neck searching for fish. They watched each other and drifted apart as the wanderer journeyed with their companion to the oculus in the cave. on the return, through the darkness the companion pointed out the heron not 12 feet away. the wanderer picked carefully across the stones the path forward in the light so close to the heron. the wanderer curious, but no longer seeking the heron for itself but for the path it was on. Again, as expected, the wanderer came upon the heron too loud with each careful footfall and came too close. The wanderer brazenly took over the pathway, accompanied by a fellow wanderer. 

Tear gassed.

Fuck boy energy: make sure the head isn’t too good so they don’t start texting you nonstop

And so they came to the place of bridges and each waterway drew out miriad depths before them. And there they prayed salt that the current would take them and they would learn to swim.