the Tribeca Grand, where I would like to live
Glass Tears, Man Ray 1932
I like the idea of these pillowcases rumpled against a monochromatic bed on a Sunday morning, with the record player whirling lazily and near-silent in the kitchen, as KP plays his acoustic as Coral listens intently. The bedroom floor will be covered with discarded sections from the Times and a round of magazines and a stack of books and the coffee will flow and the Kobo Grapefruite e Tabaco will burn. I'll briefly daydream about this vision as I sit in class on Sunday.