one hundred. fifty two.

i want to spend one year in the city.

i want to spend it with some spirited folk, probably my sister.

i want to do something every night, big things, little things, parties, trying new restaurants.

i want to shop in the most expensive store.

i want to find the cheapest, dingiest little shops.

i want to see good art, listen to live music on the streets and in smoky bars and under the stars in the park.

i want to discover hidden places, make friends with people who like fine wine.

i want to talk to people, since in the city people look away from you.

i want to take knitting classes in wicker park and walk craft shows, take pilates, take a ride in a carriage around Christmas.

i want to spend one year in the mountains.

i want to spend it, just me and someone with a laugh that is warm.

i want to be tucked away, hiking everyday, snow and rain and sunshine.

i want to learn the trees and flowers and the neighbors a mile away.

i want to bake pies and bread.

i want to read books aloud, roast our toes by the fire.

i want to chop down a tree.

i want to make a quilt.

i want to learn to dance in living room and trip on the carpet.

i want to scream in the forest as loud as i can.

i want to spend one year away.

i want to spend it, just me and someone who can pack light.

i want to spend it away at P.E.I. and Ireland, England and France.

i want to eat food i've never eaten before.

i want to get drunk. just once.

i want to communicate back home only through letters and funny postcards and phones on the streets.

i want to watch foreign movies.

i want to listen to foreign music.

i want to hear old, old stories from old, old men in old, dusty places.

i want to spend it out of doors, on bikes, on foot, on trains, on little boats in big rivers.

i want to do these things & i want to write it all down.

[let's ignore how many times i said "i want..." don't count.]