I'm watching her. From across the water. Late night. Finding myself alone. A rare moment of solitude amidst lapping waves. My new walking shoes jump from rock to rock. My black shadow moving closer to the water. Gazing up, I see towers of stone. Stone carved and stacked by men. I look at the metal gratings, listen to the transit waves. Hear the light clipped lapping of water waves. I see the lights across the water. A glittering skyline.
I breathe in the cool air. I'm enjoying this moment. I look to the sky, finding the moon, sliver growing larger over the past few days. And I'm surprised. Because I see stars. Old friend Orion is stretched across the sky. The coldness of the sky reminds me of the desert and for a moment I can imagine LoriLisaMojave and her cold star speckled sky. But the metaphor can't hold more than a minute.
I return my gaze to the underside of Manhattan Bridge. Stone rising into metal grates. I listen to the subway train light it's way into the city. I'm beginning to understand. I have continued my questions of this city. I've almost cracked it.
--
Chelsea walking. Brownstones, parked cars, an unattended pickup full of split wood. With a note to "try some of the best wood in the city! Sure, take a piece and then call me to get more." Something I would not have expected here. I'm walking down this street when the thought unfolds in my mind. That I could live here. The revelation comes as a complete surprise to me. Or rather, I see _how_ I would live her. In the ordinary. Everyday. Living. A different person. New York is no longer extraordinary, the familiarization has begun.
--
East Village Evening. Dinner with amazing women, the conversation turn to a subject I wrote a book about among many others. I am reminded of many things. Possible pathways open before my eyes. Life being lived. The tourist view has shattered. I've cracked it. But I don't necessarily like everything I see. My only question remains, which of these paths will I walk?
Comments