Q: have I been away from New York just long enough that walking its streets makes me wax poetic like a little old baby Joan Didion in athleisure pants? A: OBVIOUSLY. My favorite thing to do here besides pizza and plays is to have a Wander, so last night after dinner I did just that, wandered until I found a place to buy Paper Towels, and ended up in Washington Square park. And I realized / remembered that I’m staying just two blocks from where I stayed when, Summer after freshman year of college? Or Sophomore? I came up here for a month to take a Playwriting class at NYU. I can’t remember what I wrote, or what I learned. I remember I had a corduroy jean skirt, I had a roommate, I was scared to go above 14th street. And I remember wandering through Washington Square Park, where one of my classmates warned me if someone tries to sell you weed, it’s not weed. I would wander through at night, a little pensive, a little afraid, a lot Alive, thinking, I am here. So last night, I stood with that invisible, previous self and told her guess what! We’re doing the thing that you love now, FOR OUR JOB! And we watched the happy people dance and juggle the glow in dark bowling pins and sell their handmade T-shirts, and we reveled in all we’d accomplished, and made peace with all we’d lost. Burn the skirt, I begged her. She looked at me, eyes smeared with Liner. Never.