"Perhaps I will stay with you awhile, or even spend the winter, so that you can help me on my journey, wherever I go." 1 Corinthians 16:6
My ode to ole' New York.
8.5 million people and I ran into three friends in three different neighborhoods in one afternoon and each of them called me by name. How's that for small town?
Where the full moon shone brightly on my bunion free bare feet and there were no wrong turns...or wrong verb choices.
I'd dance beside a rushing river of freezing cold Veuve Cliquot and sniff the perfectly aged stinky cheese dangled before me. My vision would be blurry from laughing hysterically at the rainbow colored dragonflies that danced atop the bubbles.
The black and white words would float with clarity and rhyme into a warm tunnel where my publisher would pat me on the back and sing familiar phrases...such as "New York Times Best Seller" and "Paramount wants the movie rights."
Wouldn't it be nice if my writing took me somewhere..like to the land of understanding and tolerance? A place where I was measured by my smile and contribution, not faith or political slant. Some handsome place resembling a melodious playhouse in a tall grass field; when it rained, it spored and the Brahma bulls smiled broadly at what they'd left behind. Yet, the adjectives became addictive. Every very ticking moment would feel like a sweaty resting Savasana pose and what would Jesus do wouldn't have such a bum rap as every living disciple would understand its awe-striking validity.
But...Would I settle for a SoHo office on Broadway?**
**Waiting for Scholastic
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