changes

the green leaves of summer tainted with the red of fall

home

i’m back at my apartment now.
back to my green and brown colored walls.
back to my plants and lanterns and paper cranes.

i stand at the center of the room and look around.
this place doesn’t seem the same.
but nothing has changed.

the covers are just as we left them.
paper all over the floor.
lipstick stained glasses in the sink.
cigarette butts by the window sill.

nothing has changed.

except me.

rooted

light so soft and pure

green and lush with graceful slopes

hauntingly lovely

shining

in the city these lights are the stars that shine at night

spinning

three years ago we stood in bryant park
and watch the carousel
go round and round

liz on her wedding day

so fresh

tomatoes + peppers + red onion + lime juice + salt & pepper
pure yumminess

silhouette

i still remember taking this photograph and thinking,
“she doesn’t see me but she knows i’m here.”
how much has changed since that afternoon
but now i can say the same thing about you my friend.

fruits of our labor

the feel of moist soil. the smell of fresh herbs. the dirt underneath my fingernails. all these things i have learned to love because of my library’s edible garden. by far one of the best things i did this summer.

to new beginnings

sometimes it takes a complete stranger to reintroduce yourself to that person you see in the mirror.