diary 8 (february 13)
i didn’t take very many photographs.. i don’t understand the passing of time i guess i lost track. the beginning of the month i spent being sad about being mean. i was also looking for a new home a lot of the time and got to look into apartments/lives and met so many people that i would’ve never gotten to know without craiglist. went to art gallery openings and lay in bed after i woke up replaying my dreams. too many nights i can’t remember how i got home. i do remember vividly some things though: sitting on the subway after a shoot flipping through polaroids and falling in love with photography more than ever, one night hanging out with people and not being able to help curling up on the hardwood floor, walking through the city being very aware of the people around me for a few days, staring blankly at nothing in cafes for the majority of the day, passing the house where ‘a tree grows in brooklyn’ was written, running through my neighborhood after the snowstorm, going to the upper west side to find one specific book and how pretty the fog and the puddles on the ground were, walking down the boardwalk of coney island alone in the sun, playing board games on my bedroom floor with the window open, a blue-haired boy threatening to me that he’d commit suicide, packing up everything i own into little white bags. most days i felt like i was seeing how much i could consistently surround myself with friends. everyone is much too nice to me. i’m going to miss being able to see the manhattan skyline from my bedroom window. i think i said “everything is happening right now at once” every day.