Bonnie tells Amy & I that she hates the city, because she lives down there and she's tired of the atmosphere.
I know I could never live in the city, but I do love a good visit.
I love feeling on the outside of it all, looking in.
When I was younger I used to want to live in the city.
I would be that lady, that intelligent, darkly witty, deep & self-absorbed woman.
Dripping with style, but in an understated way.
I would be that lady that stares straight ahead on her way to vastly important museum exhibit openings, poetry readings & performances.
I used to kind of see that, kind of want that.
I can see now that this is my selfish, introverted side. There are so many things more important, worth following after & holding onto.
Walking back to the train, I tried to look up and see the sky
but buildings were too tall.
Everyone is forced to stare at themselves in large glass windows
to stare at large, colorful advertisements
stare past everyone else
[heaven forbid you smile at the passing lady or glance at the homeless man].
It's better this way, better for me to have grown up small town.
Bonnie says she tries to break the pattern down, smile at someone on the train, talk to random people like she found so easy to do on her road trip around and stops in hokey towns. We agreed it's a lot more about connection, not coldness. So much anxiety comes from that lifestyle, I think.
A good trip to the city, some good perspective and good chats in spite of our failure of a cafe stop.
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