this corner isn't as good for people watching as the one i had in west hollywood. that spot was my favorite. god, i spent so many evenings there. smoking cloves and drinking coffee. listening to songs that destroyed me a little bit. and i'd just watch people for hours. and i'd write. back then i had words i didn't know where to put and they were endless. and effortless. they just spewed and spewed. and i wonder if it was partly because i was feeling so many new things at the time. growing up. becoming myself. i haven't had that many words in a long time. but i feel them slowly coming back. they are unwritten songs. they are scribbled lines and splattered thoughts. they are passing strangers and cold vanilla lattes. they are warm summer nights before fall comes. they are this and that and everything and nothing all at once. they are all the things i haven't felt for the past two years.