‘Jessica’, ‘Timide’, ‘Where 28th Ave & 38th St. Meet’, &‘Orange Socks’

Sherri Harvey is an educator, freelance writer, photographer, and eco storyteller. She travels the world for projects that tell the stories of an environment in crisis and the people helping to save it, especially women. Over the past few years, she lived with a sociocracy struggling to find solutions for the water crisis in Spain, traveled to villages throughout West Africa learning about the plight of women in remote villages, worked with Orangutan Odysseys in Borneo to highlight the crisis of deforestation and orangutans, and followed a vet crew around the island of Phuket to create the documentary film, Accidental Advoctes in Phuket. The power of stories can unite cultures, share communion, and promote eco-change. Please see www.sherriharvey.com or @sherricoyote for more info.

Jessica

The cigarette hung effortlessly from your lip while tuning your antique guitar.
I wasn’t sure if I felt desire, envy, or admiration.

Noticing my shivers you pulled your sweater over your head with hair lighter than gold
falling back onto your shoulders and handed it to me.

I had never seen a girl so cool at this point in the 16 years of my life, let alone to be
sharing a smoke with her.

I don’t remember what we did that night - what we listened to, watched, or talked about.
I only remember when leaving you handed me a CD to listen to. It was Burt Bacharach’s
Greatest Hits.

Trying to return your sweater you gestured for me to keep it and said it looked better on
me anyway. So I did.

I listened to that CD until the scratches made it skip and I wore that sweater until the
threads became tattered.

And I loved it.

Timide

“Life’s too short to be shy,” you said, sounding as French as ever while we slurped our
soups in Chinatown.
Sure I knew what that meant but I don’t think I understood it until years later.
Somewhere between shit-talking acquaintances and browsing the cheap trinkets on
Bowery St.
I decided to let you in.
And even though I couldn’t give you everything you needed - we mutually taught each
other how to care for someone else again.
That it was possible.
I may have been too shy to say this back then, or trying too hard to look tough in my
denim jacket.
But I have never been so cold or so scared as I was on the back of your motorcycle as we
flew across the Williamsburg Bridge home.

Where 28th Ave & 38th St. Meet

Sometimes when imagining the future,
you’re still there.
Well a version of you, this is.
Your face is different -you- are different.
But somehow I still know it’s you.
Mostly because of the way it feels.
Similar to the predictable comforts of singing a favorite song or the reruns of a familiar
sitcom.
This new version of you can pick up where the last one left off.
Damages I’ve acquired over the years since don’t go unnoticed.
*You dress my wounds with grace.
The kind of grace that only someone who’s been through the same hell can provide.
*You listen to my fears with sorrow.
The kind of sorrow that accompanies guilt knowing that you helped create this.
*You hold me with tenderness.
The kind of tenderness that only an old lover and friend can offer as it’s adorned with
care.
But maybe it’s not you.
Maybe I just want to feel that again.
The wholeness that came with being one-half of two.

Orange Socks

I felt her standing over me before she even spoke.
‘What are you looking at?’
Turning down my music I explained that - the reservoir is swarming with spiders whose
webs sparkle in the chain-linked fence at sunset.
‘Cool.’ She smiled.

Watching you walk away I wanted to tell you that I thought it was cool you weren’t
listening to music. And that I imagine you are comfortable sitting in the silence of
yourself.

Instead, I said, “I like your socks.”

Katarina Behrmann, a Los Angeles-based creative spirit and author, has a rich history of literary achievements. Her creative journey boasts the production of her stage play off-Broadway, with a segment featured in the Progenitor Art and Literary Journal. Her latest triumphs include the publication of a creative non-fiction piece in GreenPrints, a highlighted blog on Humans of The World, and a personal essay showcased on Drunk Monkeys. Head in clouds and heart on her sleeve, Katarina continues to create.