in which I find a favorite coffee shop

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Coffee shop culture is an uprising roar of late. For writers, it’s equal to the office. Ink-stained fingers are replaced for coffee stained desks (or for me, I still have both). The atmosphere of people coming-and-going, the hum of city streets, and the bitter caffeinated lips on cold cups makes for a blank canvas; a canvas crying for cathedrals to be built by the loose cement of words.

There’s something new about trying new coffee shops to find new types of stories, however there is the same draw in finding your favorite corners. If you’re ever in Chelsea, go to Intelligentsia’s coffee bar in The Highline Hotel. Whether in the cozy inside or outside facing the city or in the enchanting garden area out back, this coffee shop is asking for the adventurous to build their cathedrals and everyone to share a drink and a conversation. After only an hour, this place left me in wonders, as all good coffee shops should.

autumn when you’re 17

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These are, as Walt Whitman wrote, ‘the days that must happen to you’. School work, tests, college applications, confusion, joy. The feeling of knowing who you are one second, but being entirely uncertain the next. Yet, as I’ve always known, I never want to leave living life this way. I never want to settle in the way I think and the way I dream. I pray I never lose the questions and the striving towards tomorrow and the never ending nights of weighing what it might be to fall in love or die. I never want to lose pondering who I will be someday, the feeling of looking of starry skies, the love of Christmas I’ve had since childhood, the aches of a sore body after dancing, the nights of my family tucked in bed reading stories. I never want to lose the wonder.

Photos from the midst of autumn 2015.