studying stars.

sometimes i can't imagine how two people ever fall in love.

it seems to me the world is a complex constellation of misdirected gazes.

her looking at him looking at that woman looking at that man looking at that girl looking at that boy looking at. the wrong her.

a zigzagging, never-ending game of connect the dots.

but i suppose, out of every million misplaced glances, there is one brief, silent, glittering connection:

two pairs of eyes meeting. and the world set ablaze.

a nyc {for tryon} picnic.

oh how i love fort tryon park!

{home of the beloved new leaf cafe}

oh how words fail to extol its many virtues!

it is my favorite place in all of new york. the air is cool and fresh {reminiscent of my grandparent's home in briarcliff}.

and the flowers are in bloom now. the smell! oh, the smell! so if you're in the city get on the nearest A train and get off at 190th. take the elevator up and find yourself in the sweetest little subway station that catapults you into forest. yes, that's right. i said catapult. and forest.

so when deciding where to celebrate cinco de mayo, it was a no-brainer. we gathered blankets, chips and guacamole, hummus, bread and goat cheese.

insta-picnic!

happy fifth, indeed!

breakfast.

i'm feeling a little ...

hmm...

i don't know what i'm feeling this morning.

my ears are itching. allergies have taken hold.

my parents leave for morocco today. i wish i was with them.

i am missing home desperately.

and i'm scared.

(huh.

yup, that's it.

that's what i'm feeling).

overwhelmed by life itself.

oh, did i tell you that i'm leaving new york for the summer?

for three months.

i'm headed to a land many of you might have heard of:

utah?

yes, utah.

i'm going to find out about a life.

but more on that later.

for now i'm just thankful for meaningful breakfasts.

meaningful breakfasts are a better attempt at equilibrium than anything else i can think of (today at least).

umbrella.

last night i dreamt that a man i once loved lent me an umbrella.

i awoke feeling slightly unsettled.

does this mean the metaphorical rains are headed my way?

perhaps.

but maybe it also means that the umbrella will be there just at the exact moment the sky opens up and the landscape of my life begins to shift.

home.

there's a corner store that my roommate amanda likes to go to when she's feeling homesick.

they carry maltas and all goya products. sugar candies and spanish coca-colas. and after just a moment she feels like she's back home in puerto rico.

i thought long and hard about where i can go when i'm feeling homesick for texas.

and baskin robbins was the best i could come up with.

it's no bluebell, but it'll do.