Dear Brooklyn,

we've been making eyes at each other for a while now. i've managed to resist your charms all but once (in my 16-different-living-arrangements-in-four-years, coy little way). and now it is nearly official: you and i, brooklyn. and the miles of subway tracks that will periodically separate us.

but brooklyn, i have to tell you: sometimes you remind me of grad school, and not in the good way. i will not be shaving half my head or wearing mismatched feather earrings or walking on the unworn edges of sidewalks for the sake of [non]conformity. in return, please retain your gritty weirdness and sources of strong coffee. please direct me toward your adorably affordable dress shops, newly opened wine bars, and bio-friendly dry cleaners -- in that order. i already know that we like each other, bk (can i call you bk?), so let's just be honest. i prefer salted radishes and cave-aged gruyere. i'd rather walk than take the bus. femininity delights me.

these truths are self-evident, and they're not going anywhere, not even if i go to brooklyn. that is, of course, if brooklyn will have me.

love,
sarah