She lives five blocks away from the beach and two blocks away from the park. The “N” is her neighborhood street car and it connects her to the whole city. At least as far as she has gone. She rides the “N” so often that it could be her second home, except it’s not. Cause then she doesn’t really like it when too many people get on, so she takes up both seats. One seat for her ass and the other for her feet. Unless the bus gets too crowed, then she has to give in and let someone else sit. It’s almost like her mind. She likes it when she’s got a few thoughts sitting in there, and a little more wouldn’t hurt. But when her mind is full and racing with thoughts, she has to give in.
Everywhere she goes, she carries a pen with her and her notebook is often by her side. Inside, it is filled with poems half started, random doodles and unfinished thoughts, phone numbers and some math notes for when she forgot her other notebook. So much has gone into her notebook that if she lost it, she’d lose a part of herself. Along with poetry, music and art flows through her veins. Her eyes see everything as a potential painting and her fingers move as if she were playing the cello while she waits for the bus to come.Posted in art