Factory

The beauty of destruction is that we as humans persevere and rebuild, not by some conscious decision, but rather by nature willed instinct.

Hurricane Sandy has drowned Manhattan, but we look past the fury, the loss, the destruction, and there on the horizon lies the Manhattan of former glory; she could use a towel and a few helpful hands.

I have not heard back from Vogue magazine.

Today the sous chef at work told me he loved me, I replied in like with sign language. I realized that nothing has confronted me with such fear than love. Love, my friends, is quite terrifying. I understand the context in which he meant it, but it shocked me still to hear. I started this blog as a jilted lover, have I grown? Perhaps. It's been rough, but its time to get back on that horse, maybe not with the sous, but someone somewhere.