this story starts in the middle. a plane ride at sunset over a city i have never stepped foot in. a mapper drools with love and right arm twitches in awe.
two months ago a meghan long past looked out this window, i can't fully remember her as she was but i'd like to preserve this moment because i do remember it was full of hope. i always take the window seat. it's absurd how far away i am from that moment, i don't remember it as part of this life.
for this story it is appropriate to start in the middle. there was this momentary burp, a whirlwind, a tennis match, back and forth across the country. . returning from a journey away from the city's concrete floors, inflated with creativity, bigger eyes and new-found mental freedom i had no idea what new york had in store for me. turns out new york swallowed me in, churned me up for a good month and spit me out. but at this moment i was returning home. I don't have those keys anymore, I was in the middle at that moment, staring over chicago at springs dusk.