seven days.

Cinnamon.
The essence of fall.
Pancakes with cinnamon.
The essence of goodness.
The essence of a breakfast for a champion. The breakfast to the start of a very very very long week. A week off. A week of...idolness? Long pointless hours in a coffee shop? Read a book? Begin reading for school? Attempt to become a writer? Pursue life more seriously? Visit the zoo. Go for a walk. Watch the same fifteen movies over and over. Wish that I were a painter? Learn the violin? A week off...what will I do?

.........

Before I graduate-I would like to drive down Moro street the wrong way...just to see what would happen. I feel as if a ticket might be issued-a rather large ticket...but, would it be worth it? I think so.

..........

Though I have a week to myself-a week of freedom...I don't want anyone to move back to town. For two consecutive summers I have lived in this town. I feel that I have some sense of ownership to not want the ones who simply 'go to school here' to move back into town. I don't see that as ok. I LIVE here now. My town. This is silly-I know-especially since we are talking about Manhattan, but after a certain amount of time a community builds. During the summer I feel that in some ways, there is a stronger community that is built rather than ones during the school year. I don't know how it is or in what ways I could describe it...but it's odd and I like it.

On the flip side...if people do not move back into town...then fall will not come and without fall...well let's just say cinnamon would not taste so superb.