Blossoming

 When I started this blog I lived in Quito, Ecuador. I started it sitting in the living room of a 4th floor apartment that had large floor to ceiling windows from which you could see a snow-capped peak, far, far off in the distance. 

I worked in a bar, called NoBar, rather a club that would become packed on weekends and most weekdays.

I stood in the middle of a large U-shaped elevated bar that had, in the center, a wide open space that we danced within. Sometimes we could call up guests, for example birthdays of the night, and shower everyone with champagne. 

This space was where I talked to the other bartenders and barbacks. What you might call a traditional bar, with a bartender and a shelf of liquor behind him, was just a small area of square-footage, located near the top of the U. We took the liquor to patrons seated around the bar, and talked to them. 

I lived in this apartment, about 5 blocks away, to the Northeast, a white and tan facade. I would walk up the white stairwell, open the door, walk through the living room, and go to my room, the window of which looked East and was above the head of my bed. The walls were white, I think there was a closet to the left of my bed, and I had a small shelf, contents on each tier exposed, on the wall to the right.

I remember taking the bus in Quito-- staring out the window, watching the bus attendant get off and on at stops, calling out destinations. I remember watching the city from the bus windows-- bus stops at the elbows of curved roads, green grass, tan five story buildings, fences, noise, advertisements, perhaps an old woman, all passing by. 

I would sit, up in my apartment, in a chair facing the windows and write. I started the blog because a guy I liked was a writer and I wanted to be a writer too.

I think there was something in me that never understood that to be a writer, to become one, to be known for it, I would have to bring my writing out into the world too. I never knew there was a world that could hear my writing, that it would be possible to grow my writing into. I'm aware of that now-- the belief in a world that didn't have me in it.