Autumn in New York

New York didn’t lend itself to pages of actual writing. But It did inspire; filled my belly with spicy, sour, and sweet, colored my eyes with paint, layers of beautiful beads, old photographs with frayed edges, and magical airy silk, among swings, among pigeons, among a song filled armory, the smell of aged wood, the story of soldiers. There was Harlem, Manhattan, Brooklyn, the bustling crowds, long walks, mild weather, a few soft blooming petals, and sketches of bare trees, a few with white twinkling lights tangled in their branches.

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Categories: Writing

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