I sit here Sunday night reflecting on a beautiful weekend. Should we run? ... Why not, I reply; the next adventure begins. We are wearing our rain coats due to the rains futile attempts at changing the worlds plans. I will never let a little rain persuade me against time with Emily. Click click click with rogue waves in our thoughts we roll towards the concrete world of everything. There are never any formal plans when setting off on a quick stroll through time but who ends up following them anyway. Tired already lulled to sleep with a tuff of blond hair in my lap we arrive; color in our eyes and coffee in our nostrils. Why do express trains always miss your stop? Maybe we are all meant to explore more then expected and venture off in places we do not know. 3 floors down with the city winding above our heads we seek out the only show in town, MoMA. The lights are right and the colors are perfect its been to long since I have been here, many of the paintings have moved and that old excitement creeps in. 15 minutes to closing and I feel a hand on my calf, its time to go and Cuban food awaits.
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