Brief intermission: don’t leave it to the last minute!

An unassuming flower shop somewhere near the tracks at Grand Central.
Every weekday morning they put out fresh cut flowers arranged in colour-coordinated rows on the shelves. Busy commuters can always count on finding the perfect bouquet for their occasion, until closing time at 7:30pm. Always?

Not so on February the 14th! By 6pm the vases were empty and folks were pushing and elbowing their way through hoping to catch the remains of the day.

For that day was V day and people were willing to put up a fight.

Aah, the things we do for love…

Snapshot from February 14th, 2017

Time.Travel.Dream.

Ten past nine. Time doesn’t matter. What matters is I lost you. You hugged me and drifted away in the shadows. You said it’s ok. You said you’d be back by nine. I tried to call you but I couldn’t remember your number. Your number. The one I called thousands – countless times year upon year upon year. I pushed the memory button but that didn’t work either. Anxiety turning to desperation. I start to panic but I try to focus. I start again, digit after digit after digit. Together they look familiar, perhaps I’m getting somewhere. Yet somehow I find it impossible to dial your number to the end. Either I loose track or the screen gets blurry – finally the battery goes dead. Best I can do is wait under the clock. Or wake up.

A recurrent dream.

October 7th, 2016