Somebody couldn’t help themselves. This wad of balloons was tangled up a lamppost on a friend’s street. Somehow, finding lost balloons seems to me to be a good omen or good something. Once in a while there will be one floating across the Hudson. There have been days and days in a row when I’ve spotted drifting lone balloons. Once, days went by. On the first, there was a red, the next a blue, the next a green, and on the last, a yellow. I imagined if I spotted orange and purple balloons, I’d have the rainbow and maybe luck enough too to ca-ching it on a lottery ticket. No such luck came to me then. Luck said, “I will not return to you until you finish studies with a piece of paper in hand.” Then I’ll be granted one lucky day. Looking forward to it. Note to self at 19, life is not a piece of cake. And this indeed is the real thing and not some dress rehearsal. You and that flame haired one thought you were cute that night pigeon navigating Gotham streets pontificating that one.

Bon nuit witches and warlocks..