“The 18 hour bus ride was the ninth level of Hell.” –Z

Dear my invisible audience,
Hello, from the quaint Rm. 333 at the Gershwin Hotel at 27th Street and 5th Avenue of New York City. Hello from my window that faces this brick wall corridor that I may never remember but could paint you a picture because it looks the same as any other. And Dear Reader, I hope to give you every silliness and smile I can manage. Though life is slow sometimes, it’s experiences like these that make living seem top shelf to me. Yes, and writing my stories to you. I hope to be your entertainer for the evening…

You see, I cannot sleep, nor want to sleep in this New York, my playground, a wonderland that tugs on my heels, beckons: explore.