full of things no one told me.
a friend of a friend moved to the city this week and i've been pondering what this means for her by way of, nearly two years ago now, all that it meant for me. how unprepared i was for the many tiny details of a life here; how nothing anyone could have said would have readied me anyway.
from what i can tell, building a life here, like anywhere else, i suppose, is full of steps and missteps; sometimes more questions than answers. the fight for the job; the hunt for the home; the finding of place. the sounds, the strangers, the conditions of anonymity. and slowly, steadily, surely, it comes: often in bits, sometimes in pieces, the arsenal of beautiful details that define life in new york. things that no one could have told me; things i would rather have discovered on my own anyway.