It's a cruel world, that it is especially when you see an elderly woman crying in the street screaming, "help me". I didn't know what to do at the time, what could I do, I had nothing to offer. I am having a hard enough time trying to keep it all together and I am sure of it one day she will pull herself out or she will die cold hearted in the streets.
Or else maybe that is a prediction of where I am headed. Well luckily the weather has been an odd seventy-two degrees in November which is usually opposite, it should be cold. There was Clint, Dennis and I can't remember his name but he's a good guy I know that much. They were all down on Ludlow Street the time I was going for a walk to settle the disappointments and the last class of actions that had been going on in the past 2 years.
The winter's here have been very cold and grey but nothing comparable to the cold winter's of Boston walking in the windy ice rain blowing off my face. Sanding my skin down to a smooth feel.
The abrasiveness has shown me so many truths and I feel I am well versed in these thoughts and phrases but never can seem to write about anything except for the life that I see out there through the looking glass and at every street corner and subway stop seems to be new days and new adjustments.