My Mr. Big...

All the poor ones were surrounding him like a bunch of flies, aware that he could get rid of them with a shake of his hand. They were all drawn to him like a light and fell, one by one while struggling for his attention.

I observed from a distance; clenched my teeth, put on my sunglasses, turned my back and left before I was discovered.

Woody Woodpecker and his upper Manhattan friends

Woody Woodpecker and his upper Manhattan friends, are drinking and sniffing while having intellectual conversations about world hunger and the latest exhibition at the Guggenheim.

Their conversations are accompanied by Sidney Bechet in the background and the clinging sound of wine glasses.

I want to go to NY.

E.Y.

HE

He had a tired face.
Not in the sense that he suffered from insomnia , but more like the one who had been through a lot…maybe too much.

E.Y

Let's live a cliché

Photo by Patrick Moberg

Let's live a cliché;
Our eyes meet coincidentally in the middle of a rush hour in a subway station. By accident you look once, then twice. The third time, you pretend to be looking at the board while you try to close your umbrella. But I know how it works; you can't hide it from me. Why is your hair wet? I don't get it.
The crowd around us turns silent and moves in slow motion. No matter how many times I get bumped into; my looks remain calm, waiting for the next exchange.2 minutes to the next subway. It's not mine. Hopefully, not yours either.

E.Y