of homes and trycicles of the NYPD

The days pass and pass... I returned from Edinburgh and Oxford on monday to a different New York, to heat, to streets covered in flowers and plants, to people dressed lightly, to the flowers finally breaking out among the trees that were previously just grey skeletons haunting the pavement.

It was strange to be back in Edinburgh; the roots I used to feel are no longer there. Maybe it was just lacking my own flat, my own room, or maybe it was not staying in the heartland of my old haunts. I was awed by the emptiness, by Edinburgh's greenery, and by the leisurely nature of its cafe culture.

New York coffee places are largely pumping affairs: eat and begone!

On other matters, worky projects here are starting to properly catch my curiosity, and I made last night to what people here seem to call a "minimal wave" club: an electronic vision of the darkest 80s, stripped bare, and stuffed with groove; the club was preceded by live music aptly called Dark folk from Gent.

Oh yeah, here's a fun thing about modern new york: the NYPD drive tricycles... still makes smile as I get my morning coffee.