I'm a twentysomething writer and editor living out my dream
one day • one picture • one avenue • one story at a time.
This is where I overshare and constantly write tiny love letters to New York.
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It’s Sunday night, and she’s missed it all
Missed her carriage, missed her ball
It’s Sunday night, and the world’s gone by
With cocktails and cab rides, with hellos and goodbyes“How was your weekend,” they’ll ask her tomorrow
“Perfect,” she’ll say, and swallow her sorrow
The doorbell never rang, and the scenery hasn’t changed
Fairy Godmother never came, Cinderella is just the sameCinderella’s not supposed to say that things
Don’t always go the storybook way
If I were you, I wouldn’t wait for princes or coachmen to open the gatesThe books they read us, and movies we see
All try to sell us this fable fantasy
Once upon a time is not a state of mind
Happy ever after is not the final chapter…
