New York Lived--Month One

New York is a sea of places and faces and concrete buildings and horns swirling around me. Whirling around, I wonder, where am I going? So I pick up the pace and jump on the train that people from the industrial revolution thought our generation might respect. Little did the progressive engineers and laborers know how their posterity would treat their modern marvel. Rats scurry from track to hole amidst discarded diapers and coca colas and unsustainability, dodging the incoming D.

No time to fix any of it because we’re moving…onto to the next stop where twenty different people help a blind man upstairs and out onto the street. Smells change just as quick as our steps and men with nothing to loose let every beautiful woman know she is. Fences are everywhere and the chain links rushing minutes closer and closer together until all you can squeeze is a blink.

But the old Puerto Rican man and his friends steal time to dance in the street on Saturday evening, reminding me to slow down—that the city, she breathes; And every tree that calls this place home has become my hero—and sometimes I inhale and notice—every bee and bird that hack the solid ground despite the buried earth that’s beneath; And every child who plays amongst the towering structures and curious strangers gives me reason to do the same. Their songs are the gentle melodies that flow like golden rivers of light that glow brighter than that square of time.