If there was ever a time for comfort food, it was yesterday. When I’m feeling particularly sad or vulnerable or weak, I always fall back on trying to replicate the feeling of trekking through Long Island City in the rain and gorging myself on $5 worth of Indian tomato soup and samosas.
Tuesday ended with a heavy blow, and I moved into the morning in a mezcal soaked haze. And draped in kittens, feeling sad and scared, I read words of strength and love that reminded me of the resilience of all of the women I’m grateful to surround myself with.
So I’m taking comfort in gifts form these women, and continuing to do what we do best; we keep sharing and creating and joining together. So I mourn, briefly and intensely, and continue with the same passion that drives me to keep fighting. And then we eat.