“I didn’t think you were coming back,” says the tall, lanky man behind the bar. I laugh, and we have a momentary stare down. I playfully order a Ramus Gin Fizz. He pretends to grimace, and soon enough, he’s shaking that big silver cup, in an expertly sexy way only bartenders can do. It’s a Wednesday night…
It’s early evening in Wildwood. I just spent the day exploring Cape May, one of the more affluent and hoity toity beach towns in Southern New Jersey, mother, aunt, cousin and father in tow. At one point, my parents and I went wine-tasting, a joyous yet disappointing activity where my mother and I made similarly…
“You should get in one,” Sandra says, gesturing towards the oversized plastic balls. I had watched a seven year old spin around in one earlier. Her clothes, damp and her hair, soaking wet, her knees wobbled as she struggled to stand up. She had an interesting expression, a compromise between panic and pure exhileration. My…
I’ve started working at a ramen shop.
The theater is dark now. A solitary couple, with matching grey hued short haircuts share a cross look. Glancing behind them, they look at the girl, who is shamelessly drinking a tall glass of wine, munching on popcorn, and snapping pictures.
It’s my third time to Paris. I don’t really have a plan, which seems to be the recurring theme to my life right now. I’m just drifting, collecting experiences to curate into stories for this aptly named blog.
I’m dripping with sweat. My skin feels like the surface of a freshly baked cookie; warm to the touch, with the promise of crisping.
It’s a Tuesday. I’m sitting in Fullsteam, carefully sipping a plastic cup of water. I check my phone. She’s on her way.
It’s a Thursday evening, at dusk. The residential street I’m walking down is lovely. Cozy homes snuggled into hilltops. Vibrant red and yellow leaves scattered beneath cars, aside curbs.
“All your life, you’ve never seen Woman, taken by the wind…”