“I’d fly uptown to whatever temporary job would have me, and then downtown to class, then home to write my fingers down to stubs. I wasn’t making enough money, but I was making more than I ever had before. I wasn’t finding love, but I was finding more than I’d ever found before. Little scraps of it, in every person I met. Everyone had something to give me. Maybe I had something to give them, too. I hoped so. I was collecting. It seemed like my cup was starting to spill over, and so what if it wa...sn’t just from loving one person, but from loving all of them? Maybe I wouldn’t find everything I was looking for in one place, but the world was wider than I could have imagined, and everyone’s path seemed to lead to New York. I met men from Ghana and Georgia, ate Ethiopian food with a good ol’ boy from North Carolina, rode around in an ice-cream truck with a guy from Mexico City, handing out Popsicles and nut-covered cones to surging children. A Japanese student took me to a dance club, and then listened to his Walkman the whole time we were there.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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