+ laura Holder not com +

After we had woken up, we told eachother our dreams. Mine involved snakes in the yard at my parents house, which were dangerous, menacing, unknown. His involved snakes in the yard at his mother's house ... very venemous, deadly, a risk to all of humanity.

And my coffee smells like brown sugar. My ice cream tastes like pop corn. My soap smells like africa, skin like roses, my hair smells like sleep, drycleaning like bananas, the streets smell like must and dust. My boots smell like warm musky cocoa, the subway platform smells like Clorox, my cat smells like cat. The air like dewberry, my refridgerator smells like earth. The wind smells like rain.

At H&M / SoHo: 8pm, Wednesday:
GUY: "IF YOU'RE NOT GOING TO ROCK IT, THEN DON'T EVEN BUY IT."
GIRL (trying on sequined t-shirt): "WELL, IF I BUY IT, I'LL TOTALLY ROCK IT, I JUST DON'T KNOW IF I NEED ANOTHER GLITTER T-SHIRT..."

at Bar Pitti / lower manhattan, 11pm Thursday:
MAN A: "DID YOU EVER INSTALL THAT SLEIGH BED IN YOUR APARTMENT?"
MAN B: "OH YES, I SPEND ALL MY TIME IN THAT ROOM NOW. SHEESH, I NEVER EVEN USE THE 2ND OR THIRD FLOORS ANYMORE...."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Oh and, after seeing Amélie at the Paris Theatre last night, trés inspired to do good for any and all who crossed our paths, we were quite pleased to come upon a Volvo parked right there on 57th street, with its keys still in the keyhole of the passenger's door. Strange. All doors locked.... keys in slot. 57th Street!

We stood, and stared... wondering WWAD: What Would Amelie Do? : Remove keys, unlock doors, put keys in glove box? That would leave a door unlocked and vulnerable to robbers...yet no more vulnerable than it currently was, obviously. Good thing we didn't just come from car-heist flick, who knows what kind of joyride might've ensued. Next, not knowing if there was a bomb wired, or at the least a piercing car alarm involved, we snuck up, slid the keys out of the door-lock (whew, no explosion, no car alarm either)... and leaving all doors locked, rang the bell for the doorman of the nearest building. Doorman didn't know the car, but said he's there around the clock, and we left keys with him. He gave us a sticker and we wrote a note, (feeling trés Amelie, I was glad to have applied my rosy red lipgloss) and we stuck the note to the windshield: "Your car keys are with the doorman at #130. Peace Out, Viva La Volvo!"