Galeria de Alix Lynx

The Whitney Biennial closes in less than two weeks and I keep finding myself in front of the same piece — the one that makes me feel like I'm being watched back. You ever have a painting do that to you?

Got back from my run and the apartment's already a sauna — nothing's going back on this body. You'd skip the smoothie too, wouldn't you?

The DJ played the one track that makes the whole courtyard forget Monday exists, and somehow my shirt came undone with it. You'd come find me back here, wouldn't you?

The woman at the jewelry stall said this was made for my collarbones and honestly she might be right. Bet you'd have a harder time looking at the necklace than she thinks.

Walked half of Manhattan car-free today and the whole way home I was already thinking about this. Bet you wouldn't have lasted past the front door.

The whole block could look up right now and I can't find a single reason to stop. Think you'd be brave enough to climb up here?

The heat outside was unbearable but the water running down me just made everything worse — or better, depending on how you look at it. Care to find out which?

Sleep gave up on me first — so I found something better to do with these hands. You'd rather watch than sleep, wouldn't you?

The best part of a night that went too well is the walk home while the city's still deciding whether to wake up — heels in one hand, last night's eyeliner still holding on for dear life. Wonder if you'd have offered to carry these.