The tiny tomatoes upon their rusty, wrought iron tower are growing and growing...
I snack on them when I am watering the terrace, and looking up at the open sky above that I love so much. I am beginning to panic about not finding a new place like this.
It is tiny, but light-filled. I would like another pocket in the sky. We've been looking at garden apartments, which are a different animal. Looked down upon by others, and darker.
I stood in the rain on the terrace yesterday and got wet, and felt my heart break in my panic spell, and a rainbow came out over Brooklyn.
Then we barbecued, made a salad with the tomatoes, and watched a movie while the cat begged for tidbits.