#spilledrambles

Wondering how much of ourselves we repeat without realizing. Every now & then I catch myself being a former self and I think: do we really change, or just forget?

is anyone else sitting alone in her lonely office in a high rise in new york city nestled into a space heater looking out at the freedom tower and thinking to herself: irony?

the sky is such a pale shade of powder blue, it’s almost white. a light dusk, still just dark enough to sting, a gentle sinking of sun behind an endless dark-blue january. this is the darkest month. not by truth, by experience. the trees stand still, as if afraid that the slightest sway will make the world grow darker, sooner. a dog runs in the park below. not mine. the sky is holding a bird hostage. the ground–would you believe it? there is some grass still poking through.