Walking down the newly sun-baked Brooklyn streets, sunglasses on, carrying a bag full of fruit, passing the tattooed girl who owns the gelato shop walking her tough little bulldog (of course she would have a bulldog!)
Feeling the bathwater warm air surrounding me at night.
Talking to the bodega owner in the morning about how he had to MacGyver the grabber because it broke, and laughing with him as he says that’s his favorite show.
Watching as my hand cuts out the shapes between the lines, the feel of the knife dragging on the cutting mat.
Placing squares of color next to each other, pink and yellow and pale green. Cutting out a tiny shower, a tiny toilet, tiny chairs, as if I were making a dollhouse.
Drawing the same kind of face I drew in high school and thinking, our abilities don’t really change, it’s just how we learn to channel them.
The joy is in the process.