flâneur

stamina - by Ava - bookbear express

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Fort Greene park in November: we crush the leaves with the weigh of our bodies and I read Nevada, a novel about a transgender New York punk woman. I take Yumi out of her pouch and she chews on the grass, exposes her belly to the gray sky. My whole life I wanted one dog and now I have two. When I was a kid I also wanted a green-eyed boyfriend and a spacious apartment and time to write. Instead of being grateful I’m constantly annoyed at myself for not writing more, writing deeper. I read other people’s writing and think to myself: do

Joan Mitchell, Untitled, Diptych, 1989 Fort Greene park in November: we crush the leaves with the weight of our bodies and I read Nevada, a novel about a transgender New York punk woman. I take Yumi out of her pouch and she chews on the grass, exposes her belly to the gray sky. My whole life I wanted one dog and now I have two. When I was a kid I also wanted a green-eyed boyfriend and a spacious apartment and time to write. Instead of being grateful I’m constantly annoyed at myself for not writing more, writing deeper. I read other people’s writing and think to myself: do that. Most days…

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