Greetings From Praha | Story 2 | Pt. 1

We must go straight ahead, she said the small child reaching out her hand … because through that door is love. Akropolis Bar, Praha, 1996


Days 1-10 | Amy

Amy has always been the key to a very specific part of my brain and there is a power that can be harnessed when we are together. It took a moment but once we truly saw each other, Amy and I were one! My evil twin, the rest of my brain, my biggest cheerleader, my other half. I trust her implicitly and she I. If Amy tells me something about myself or the world at large, it is empirical fact. You don’t know me yet – but that can be said about no one else. When I think of the best days of my life, Amy is in most of them.

Big Hair, Big Laugh, Big Light! Short, Jewish and Ballsy. One of the strongest forces I have felt on this earth. Her laugh is mighty, and her heart is open. Amy takes and gives no shit. The lessons we are learning now, I will forget them, but Amy will not.

Amy feels all of her feelings and she makes the space to process her stuff. It’s not perfect, but she lives here life this way. It makes her full to the top with life and even fuller, as we get older, with sanity. Feeling all the time, she can be scary. But it’s a light you’ll always choose to stand in above any other.

Amy is the lens through which I am discovering adulthood. And I am hers.
Here now to bear witness of her vastly maturing life.

Here to find out what happens, after you sell everything that you own and fill in all the line of your future with your husband and Czechia and art. When you get scammed by that same perpetual scammer, turning his craft on you. The scam of “options” being cheating. Publicly, proudly, in front of you; tortured for more months than you were happy here.

With Mischa gone this week, we play around their apartment. Making wall tracings, we get high and talk. Her living with this new lover so soon after the fire. In our year apart, her life burnt to the studs.

These details I would not know, until we sit alone in this room.
We stay inside to grow back together, enmeshing our vines the way they were before.