looking out

Clouds heavy over the water to the south in the morning, clearing in the other direction over downtown, clearing over the city, the city before the city, the one I came to much later but this time stayed. Sometimes New York rejects you on its terms and you have to come to it on your own terms.

Then, once you’re here in this city of dreams and nightmares both, walking its sidewalks, letting yourself day by day become more and more a part of this world, once you’re here, a day (or a night) comes when you realize you’re looking out, from the perspective of the city, not at it anymore.

What this place does to you is create a space so big inside your life (strange, given that everything about your life must be so physically small here to fit in the tiny places we live) that no place else could ever fill it. And you know this, or sense something about it, and it’s why we all walk around so worried and sad or overwhelmed and joyful: On one hand we know we’re ruined, and on the other, we’re actually here…