in transition

i love the way the headlights traverse the buildings on the opposite side of the hill late at night. scanning and searching--so hitchcock-ian.

i love watching the barges float past. the proximity of the water both soothes and excites. i love the little white caps that poke up in the middle of the river. and the rivulets on the roof of the building across the way. they look suspiciously like the sugar cubes i used to build castles in grade school.

i love empty rooms in old apartments. the transformation of sound in the space. the creak of the floor, the vacuum of air. the holy quality of a charged space in transition.

i love those rare and lucid moments when i know--deep in my core, i know--that everything will be fine.

i love forgotten snippets as told by old journals and the smile that creeps into that moment of remembrance. i love how much i thought i knew at eighteen and how little i know now.

i love owning my mornings. my mug with a little blue m stenciled on. and the music that allows me to believe, for the hour before i begin the day, that i'm in paris roaming and rolling and frolicking and falling in love.