Dandelion Seeds
The weather's been strange here. Not really dry nor wet, and significantly warmer than it should be. Which makes selecting the appropriate balance of coats and jackets and slickers and hoodies, a less than easy proposition. Yesterday, I opted for a cotton windbreaker layered with a damaged vest.
I had ripped the vest years prior, climbing through a chain link fence to access the Williamsburg waterfront with an out-of-town friend, back when it was overgrown and the de facto home to many.
Throughout the entire day, each time I bent over, slid on my bag, or even turned my head, the wounds in the vest just above my right shoulder would open, releasing little tufts of down into the air. Being so light, they would float around me like dandelion seeds, riding the invisible drafts in my office and in subway cars. Unidentifiable as feathers, they looked like magic.
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