Love

The hardest thing in the world is watching someone you love struggle. Not being able to make it all better leaves you short of breath, the pressure on your heart creating bubbles of panic. Frustration cuts and helplessness burns. All you can do is leave hands and ears open. But is it enough?

NYC electricity

I finally understand why people walk around in t-shirts with ‘I heart New York’ on them. I went, I saw and I heart New York, too. The scale, the heat, the napkins with everything. Such a mad old mish-mash of people. In the most exciting and invigorating sense. It was thrilling simply walking around. I loved the art on the subway, the iced coffee, the smiley old man at the bar playing bingo (‘Oh him? That’s Taylor Mead’), the top dollar sushi at bargain basement prices, the brown stones in Brooklyn. And discovering that Americans call clubbing ‘dance parties’. Or is that just New Yorkers? Or just hip young New Yorkers with their tongues firmly in cheek? Either way, I heart it.

Hurt

Music can heal. Or, at least, spark the process.