My mother's old best friend called me today,
she almost cried on the phone when she heard me.
She's picking me up tomorrow to show me old pictures
probably going to feed me lots of korean food and cry to see my mother in a younger form.
I'm listening to music silently as I wait,
same song on repeat,
over and over, again and again
when I hear the faint, remixed voice
I just feel like I'm sitting in the lounge of the W hotel in New Orleans,
jotting thoughts and poetry in my journal, being 15, unsure of where to go next.
And here I am 5 years later getting reminded that nothing has changed but my set of friends, the boyfriend and the city setting.
You want to sleep and I just want to stay awake.
"cities die
like people die
only more slowly
and people
who live in dying cities
become stuffed with indifference and
fear
and when their deaths
become actual
funerals seem superfluous."
-Charles Bukowski
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