venezia carnevale

[February 11, 2017 – the second weekend]

wine on the streets, carnevale show at the river – seven of us – we rush and rush through the mask-clad crowds of venice and over its bridges and through its murder alleys and distracting streets and arrive too early and leave too soon and see nothing. midnight at the bar, and a night at the most ratchet airbnb ever, and in the morning we pack and we rush and rush through more mask-clad crowds and across the same bridges, and maybe we stop  too many times to take pictures, to take some coffee, to look at pigeons at san marco, to buy masks for ourselves, to get more wine – we arrive and again we see nothing, but i turn to them and i see us, this patchwork group of people assembled from here and there to pass out together during the 5am bus ride and i think i see something.

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spring/ summer of ’16

springtime was returning to a new york covered in snow, completely surreal and quietly beautiful, to chase who found me shivering and baffled in the corner of 8th st, baffled as to how to navigate all my luggage across all that slush and ice that was so foreign and curious to me, to several days of brutally cold weather and trudging through assignments and essays, oh and nights and nights of ideological conversations while walking the cold streets before spring crept in; winter broke like a bubble and then it was warm again.

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—–

summertime came suddenly, like everything else that followed: moving out of the NYU dorm and into a tiny East Village four-storey walk-up, making pasta every meal of the day. summertime was two jobs, trying to make rent, taking up graphic design and photography assignments on the side, sitting on the doorstep on 7th St writing loneliness in my journal, wondering why the heck I had stayed when it was a financially disastrous choice, and hours of FaceTime with Ashley after long grimy days at work. full-day shifts were making me even more restless and fearless, and then i was meeting new people and making unexpected friends, dipping my toes in the pool of ratchet stuff because summer so far hasn’t been ratchet enough, and then moving back to NYU summer housing and almost crying with relief at the sight of a table and a chair in the room, finding a friend in my roommate. here was the rest of summer: outdoor film screenings, going to the movies, museums, arts festivals, Central Park, and walks in the rain. and lots of doughnuts.

my last weekend there, summer break finally began for me, and i realize, after ‘i will miss you”s from people i’ve never known before summer, i realize, during my plane ride home, when i felt a strange pang in my heart close to heartbrokenness and longing, that i’m in love with this place.

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