*all pictures stolen
A few days ago I received a dose of happy: I was greeted by the smiles of little kids being picked up by their parents. I must not have realized on my almost daily walks to the subway that the route passed by a school. Children’s smiles are the best: they are natural and sincere. Kids! What do they do but embody the moment? Unperturbed by grown-up vices: do I look hot? why can’t I be rich? I need a job dammit. Such authenticity; such charm; such life. I would go in a heartbeat to Neverland — take me away from this calculating, dastardly adult world. Kids seem to smile whenever I see them — on the way back from the store with Daddy, kicking a football in the lobby of the Hotel Pennsylvania, at the neighbourhood basketball court. It is a nice feeling, because whenever you smile, I smile, whoa whoa whoa whoa.
(L-R) apartment, moscato d’asti, warmth provider