In one version of the new year, I wake in the West Village on a pullout bed, late, eyes puffy, Chris gently snoring beside me. In another, I eat massage kale with pomegranate seeds at Cafe Select, wondering what makes the food Swiss. In reality I do both, and a giant clock looms above, already ticking down the new year.
January 1, 2015
Pics and Paragraphs 