Sunday morning and then home
Few things can compare with a slow Sunday morning in New York. Coffee tastes better, the newspaper is more interesting, the Debussy playing in the background sounds better. Maybe I'm a sap for cliches or maybe I really am a snob.
In multiple hours the motive force's going to take me again throughout the bridge where the glorious bedlam of LaGuardia awaits and in some hours I'll be home. Back to life back to ringing phones back to having too much to do. It'll take more than one days, however I'll get into the swing of factors once more. I'll pick out the lifestyles I lead over the existence I consider for myself on this island state unto itself, this real-life emerald metropolis.
Every time I come up here it's better than the last time and I always think of the last one as the best I've ever had. I can't think of anything else or anywhere else that can so consistently surpass my lofty expectations. If it's possible to be in love with a place I am. So thanks New York, and thanks Brizo and thanks to everybody had had the pleasure to meet this time around. I can't imagine how anything's going to top this weekend, so I'm going to stop wondering and let it happen when it happens.