I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.
I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.
Tonight, I am standing in front of a store window. A siren screams down 86th street. An idling bus blows exhaust farts. But I am looking at a pot of Siberian irises, deep purple with vivid yellow throats, marked with black spots like tiny velvet buttons. The wind blows stray newspapers to slap and tangle against my ankles, but I have this image of flowers as I head towards the subway.
posted by ttractor @ 1:23 PM
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