Ek is moeg.
...means, I am tired. Long day. Flower District, then cab to Fifth Ave with boxes of hundreds of dollars of flowers in tow, making arrangements (fun but always fraught with performance anxiety - and huge respect for fulltime floral designers), back home, subway not working, so walking from Broadway Lafayette over the Brooklyn Bridge, quick bite of delicious pate and baguette, and slurp of prosecco before heading out to Molly's book launch party. Drinks, friends, strangers in impossibly expensive, high-heeled, red-soled shoes, home through the the cold, cobble stoned streets of SoHo, more subway (working this time). Brooklyn.
I had an hour to kill before my flower arranging this morning, and so took myself for a walk through The Ramble. Central Park in spring is gorgeous. Verdant, singing green.
Above, shooting star, below bluebells.
I want to go back, early, with a flask of good coffee. Rusks would be nice.
I must make rusks.