shodien biju 4 stundu garaa pastaigaa ar maasu, izdzeeru divas kafijas, nopirku maisinjnu hurmu, izsalu ne pa jokam, rokas, deguns, ausis, spiideeja spozha, zema saule, parks bija tiits duumakaa, cilveeku bija pamaz, tik sasodiiti fucking labi staigaat ar kaajaam pa ziemas peecpusdienu, tureet kjermeni taisni, elpot, matiem pliivot, aukstam gaisam atdurties pret seju, skatiities jebkur. tie cilveeki kas staigaajaas bija mieriigi un nesteidziigi, ir 28. decembris. kafejniicas baristam vakardien uz nametag bija rakstiits 'bob', shodien 'john lenin', tk maxx bija izpirkts, nekaadas pienjemamas sveces, nekaadas bljodinjas, shalles, blociji, nekas nebija palicis, pastaigaajaam pa tooting tirgu, tur saviesushies visaadi forshi veikalinji, pat franco manca un brickwood cafe atveerushies. veel tur ir taads amuletu, aafrikaanju masku, veediskuma, kristaalu, you name it new age mazinjsh mazinjsh veikalinjsh, kas man shaushaliigi patiik, vienmeer gribas vinjaa dziivot, bet nekad nezinu ar kaa pirkshanu lai saak, tur shodien bija uzlikta lapinja ar uzrakstu 'if yo want to buy something, call Ernest' un atstaats telefona numurs. shodien ljoti patika viss kas ir kraasains un taustaams un smarzhojams. uz ielas redzeeju braucam viirieti uz ritenja, bet viss apkaaries zelta audekliem, rotaam, stilizeetaam metriigaam zelta, sarkanaam, mirguljojoshaam paava asteem, spalvaam, karekljiem, pats sagjeerbies kaut kaa indietiski, tikai zeltaa un sarkanaa, seja skaista, jaunekliiga, tumsneeja, vienkaarhsi taads graciozs, mirguljojoshs brauca pa tooting high street kaa karalis vai dievs un speeleeja muuziku magjii. tad atrodoties tooting market, staigaajot gar lietotu, orientaalu interjera prechu shabby boutiques, saaka skaneet Dzhordzhs Maikls careless whisper, palika mazliet kremtiigi, un prieciigi reizee, ka check, es veelaizvien esmu dziivs bodymind, varu skatiities shis kraasainaas, bezjeedziigaas, burviigaas lietas, dzerot kreemiigu phresh kafiju, un ostot viiraku, ar hurmaam maisinjaa, ko majaas peec garaas pastaigas gardi notiesaashu, seezhot siltumaa uz diivaana ar sveceem. vienkarshi, vienkaarshi, vienkaarshi ir eksisteet

i'm at my best, kad es juutos totalaa droshiiba, bet droshiibas salinjaam nav kartes, taa ir plika veiksme, un dievishkjs plaans, kuru es nezinu. shkjiet ka 'buut droshiibaa' nav ierastas definiicijas, tas ir stavoklis, kas ietver sevii kaut kaadu sense of containment, but not necessarily physical, probably mostly emotional

“I felt like sometimes she didn’t want me born. I was like Cinderella—even though I was a dude. She blamed me for everything. Maybe it’s because I was ugly, I guess. Girls were all running from me. My brothers were better looking. When I grew older, it was all about money. Mom and I never discussed anything personal. It seemed like she always wanted something from me. One time I called her crying, because I was trying to quit marijuana, and I felt really depressed. She just told me: ‘You’re wasting all that money on weed. You could be giving it to me instead.” She used to cash my student loan checks. One time she even used my social security number to get a credit card, and I didn’t even know until I got the bill. So I detached myself from her. I stopped answering the phone. Then two years ago she called to tell me she had cancer, and she needed an operation, but I didn’t even answer the phone. I thought she was tricking me again. She left a message, it said: ‘Michael, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. I love you. And I know you love me.’ And I just ignored it. And she died. And I’m haunted by that. I’ve been trying to write about my life lately, but I can’t get past my mother. I wish I could just start my story with that phone call. With her saying that she loved me. The only other time I ever felt love from her was when I tried crack cocaine. I was a teenager, and I had been using for a couple weeks, and I went in her room to ask for baking soda. She started crying, and she looked scared, and she said: ‘Michael, why do you need baking soda?’ And I felt love at that moment. And it was so strong that I quit doing crack right then. I never used again. I didn’t go to a program or anything. That’s how strong that feeling was.” - humans of new york