Press Pause

I pressed pause to give you moments from the past month.

This is how these days look.

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"Did you remember your passport?" "I need a coffee" "Pour out your water before we go through security" "Shit! I need to download some music."

My bag broke, broke girl. I always overpack and under pack. Too many journals, not enough socks. We each clutched a small suitcase and had no idea when we'd be back in The States, the customs workers didn't like that answer or the number in my bank account. 

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It had been 35 hours since I slept or ate. I met a friend to watch an old movie at a theater across town. We missed the time and tucked into a pub .

I then went to bed for three days.

We slept through the sun. Even the light dripping onto the pillows.

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The bodegas have lollies and pasta if you accidentally miss the closing time for the supermarket. If you make it,  there are baguettes and cheese, hummus and jam, all for a few pounds.

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We packed up and left. As we do. Because home is on someones couch with a half zipped suitcase by the wall. Home is just as easily on a train into another city.

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How many girls can fit in one bathroom?

Three in the tub, one perched on the windowsill. Two with a bottle of wine and two swapping who puts a face mask on the other.

 

4pm is for napping. Maybe I am tired or the sun still too high in the sky. White sheets are cool and the music drifts up from below. Wake me at 8.

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Then the thunder came and brought with it rain. The windows blew open and shut. Still soft, smelled of summer. Once the storm passed the candy colored clouds came back before night. I sat on a worn mustard chair and we all hummed to our own music.

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Goodnight. Maybe tomorrow we will get gelato and sit at the park. Split baguettes at the cemetery. Alternate who reads sentences from '84 playboy columns. Who knows.