I see him in a week. As in, I see him in seven days. I'm excited.
I go to Italy soon too. Excited couldn't even describe how I feel,
which is funny, because I keep acting like I don't care, when really
I can't wait for fresh food, stalls of fruits, wine and olives, rich history
and art, mopeds, I'll stop there. I wish I was in New York right now.
Chicago just isn't the same for me. It's colder, and much smaller. The
food doesn't taste as great, and lately, I don't even feel like leaving
the house. I just read, sew my zine, and watch Sex And The City.
It's kind of pathetic actually. I cry a lot too. But I can't help it. I feel
so romantic and I have no one to really share it with. I want to take him
to this spot in Morningside Heights that overlooks Harlem. Everything was
so calm and still from this spot, yet you could still feel the motion and
life in the air. I want to take everyone there. And just stand there, frozen
in space and time. Even our breath would stop just for a moment.