n After talking to Emory

Photo by Korney Violin on Unsplash

The sun is never afraid to shine on New York City

Each day seems to be — glistening. Perhaps I am one who only lives in dreams. Reality — that nightmare — if I could pluck each one like a hair. Maybe I’d be more colorful, sharper, more genuine — definite.

Maybe I’d be less vague, uncertain, surreal — dreamy. I am unseasoned in terms of truth.

I’ve never been to New York City, perhaps it is cloudy every day.