january, i.

Tomorrow is
— Langston Hughes

Overcast, rain, and wind. The force of nature came into life to welcome the beginning of the year. I’m thinking of Patti Smith and her way with words. The last December day was marked with Malbec and Syrah. With home-cooked food, family, and Aretha Franklin. Others were there too: Diana Krall, Seal, the Obama Celebration, Kennedy Center awards of the last couple of years. Chill jazz playlists from SoundCloud. I documented my stream of consciousness of those last few hours. It feels like there could be something to hold onto there. A thread worth unraveling into a story. Something. No word yet. Not since before Christmas. I cannot help but be overcome with self-pity at the reflection that I am, in fact, waiting for him. Still and all this time. Things to write about: the sea, the colors of the sea, the wind, all that is the Mediterranean, all that is home.