NEW YORK CITY: Art Ho in the City

The blizzard was not nearly as severe as all the weather forecasters had predicted, but the fact that I had to suffer in this insufferable way was simply too much for me. Forlornly, I made my way to the little cafe in the lobby of the Jane Hotel. I glowered at the freshly painted walls, signed wistfully at the memory of the Café Gitane’s lost nearness, scowled when I was told that they didn’t have an espresso machine, haughtily accepted drip coffee, and took a seat beside the windows whilst waiting for overpriced avocado toast to arrive. I was insufferable. The toast was actually great. I love a seedy bread. 

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I adore them, obviously, I worship their existence, but I realized that I’m not always consciously thankful for their presence in my life. That changed yesterday when I realized Eddie might be no more. I love that behemoth of a moody feline. He’s an angel and he’s already used up three of his nine lives. I don’t ever want the last one to come. Until it does, I will love him with all my heart.

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