Wednesdays are grounding because I go to acupuncture in the morning, riding the subway back and forth from Brooklyn, and then in the afternoon I pick up my farmshare of fruits, vegetables and eggs that I share with two friends, and that alone is a big walk in a loop that takes an hour. I'm often late for acupuncture because I so seldom take the subway or go to Brooklyn that my time management and the train line's unpredictability conspire against me almost every time. Today I left early to stop by the post office and mail a friend's birthday gift and ended up in a cafe with a croissant and a cup of tea and a few minutes to spare. I had a lot of time to think today, actually, because of the aforementioned and the steady thrum was the rhythm of my deepest heart's desire: what do I truly want? want? want? what is it that I need? need? need? Lately people have been expanding my mind with their actions, more expansive than anything I might have considered myself. So I hear that. And I would like a (cough, Pashley Princess Classic) bicycle. And a garden, with aspirations to Sissinghurst and a brick or slate patio and some wrought iron furniture and stone benches like I grew with, dotted around. Sitting on a chaise by the pool, listening to the pebble rain of the waterfall at one end. And a little house. And a month off. Now that I've decided to stick around New York for a while, it's suddenly apparent that everything might be altogether different now in a way it never could before.
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