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I love nighttime. I love wet cobblestones. I love A. On the way home we stopped on the pavement outside our apartment. Two fireflies were hovering near the ground, blinking slowly. Green on, green off. Oh, we must live in the moistest, greenest, richest, most tree-lined, street in the borough. I love our street.
I love my coworkers. I love it when they help me and when I can find a way to help them. I love metal. I love keys. I love my friends. I love their dogs. I love my family, and they spoil me. I love my dinner soaked in chili oil and made complete with a bowl of white rice. I love the weekend. I love the screech of the train coming into the subway that makes me think of my favorite Xiu Xiu songs. I love networked computers, even if they will cause the downfall of the human race when our robots turn against us. Love verbena, lemongrass, coconut. Love lovage. Love wrinkles. Almost love breaking out due to stress. Love reading. Love comfort. Love Watership Down. Love coffee. Love sleep-deprived daze. Love eleven hours of sleep. Love brunch. Love morning filtering in through the trees.
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