The perfect hooded-sweatshirt-and-a-jacket weather and sweet, sweet Sarah. Philly librarian. I've known her since I was 19. I will never forget when I met her because we were in that punk house in Ohio. She had just gotten back into the country from Austria. I had heard about her forever from Mike and, there she was. Sitting in the kitchen on that shit-brown carpet of the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. She was in a tank top, and the sun was catching her hair through the window. I remember just staring at her like she was a ghost or, rather, an angel. If there was ever a moment I fell pretty instantly in obsession with someone, that was the moment. God, she feels so familiar every time we see each other. We have conversations that non-library people only sit through politely because they have no idea the depth of the obsession of language and words and information and the ability to locate information actually goes.
Being from the Midwest but living in Philly, she says shit and fuck every other word and says exactly what she means. My god it's so good to be around. So home. There was nothing better tonight than to see her and to wander through the downtown streets, together.
be well; be loved,
k.
(image: Valentin Fougeray via untrustme tumblr)
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