Chapter 11:12 - Post Numeral Duo
Maybe I mixed Spanish and French. Anyway. Hola from the real Big Apple. I’m actually here. Settled, living, breathing, and drinking in NYC. Spring is here. The glorious sunshine gave me a tiny baby tan the other day. The flowers are in full bloom, and walking down the street is a wonderful combobulation of daffodils, dogwood trees, trash, a fish market, and the occasional whiff of bus exhaust. Every other face I meet is a different nationality. Hindu woman with a red dot on their foreheads. Muslim ladies in beautiful flowing hijab. Dear old wrinkled Chinese men selling hot soup. Mexican taco trucks, the Halal Guys, Bengali girls going home from school in uniform, and pretty much everything else in between. It’s such a wonderful, beautiful, drastic, sad clash of culture, light, and darkness. Anything from walking past the buddhist temple and seeing a monk perform a ceremony over a new vehicle, to the massage parlour two doors down with suspicious activity. The sun rises and set a e...