shalom

I spent an afternoon at the Marina the other day (not this week, obviously--it's been gloriously rainy). A man named Royal (I think?) walked over to the bench where I was sitting and asked if he could sit next to a "pretty girl." Wasn't sure who he was talking about, but I scootched over to make some room for him anyway. He advised me to read The Art of the Novel. Said it'd change my life. I wonder if he was some angel and if I really should read it. Maybe it'll help me write the Next Great Work of Literature. 

I don't know much about the particulars about my future but I'm still content. As my eyes tracked the patterns of clouds being blown about the sky and I squinted against the pricks of light scattering themselves on the water to gaze at the city across the bay, I just...let myself be. A friend told me the other day that I'm "thriving." And I thought, yes, yes I am thriving. I put together support letters for Kenya that I'm highly pleased with, made a delicious rosemary chicken the other day, am making new friends in French class, and ate a salad for lunch.

Really, though--it's my favorite time of year here. Springtime in Berkeley, when the days get longer and I can roam and linger about the streets, and get ice cream and no one will think it strange because it won't be pouring rain outside. It feels good to be me.