Growing up in the countryside means the city makes me yearn this trio: the stars at night, clean air and green grass. I also tend to pity Biba, always limited by her leash on the sidewalks and so often we amble up towards the posher side of town to roll around in the park, she roams free while I marvel like an idiot at a cactus or daisy patch. I’ll usually stop for a giant iced latte on the way to drink when we arrive. It is perhaps the only quiet ritual of my life, reading and sleeping aside. Hourly I tend to jump on and off the anxiety train but a quick jaunt to a patch of grass is calming in a way I cannot convey without a cliche. Truthfully, I have been feeling a little unsteady this week, I am brimming with vague cravings, ambigious enough to leave me consistently lusting. Concentration is dappled, I serpentine in and out of work, its an unproductive cycle. Episodes of high energy dip into lethargic lows. I’d say it’s seasonal and despite the lopsided nature of my days, I’m still very happy. Excited for when the sun fires up into summer but content enough with these crisp, lengthier spring days that if you wake up early enough, smell like perfume. There is so much good ahead, the warm weather is magic to me. This 20 degree air is heavy with promise, I believe. I can feel it.