Write the things which you have seen, and the things which are,
and the things that will take place after this.
Revelations 1:19
It begins at dawn above the brown waters of the East River. For a split second I imagine a vision of thousands of bodies adrift in whirling eddies of blood, but that's not what I find. The light is soft and the Queensboro Bridge is revealed in mist - grand, fine art. This is Sutton Place on Saturday morning, and there are great clean piles of carefully bagged trash outside tall buildings of plush apartments awaiting removal. A young couple sits on a bench still talking animately after a night out. A man takes photographs through a long lense and apologizes for being in my way even though he is not. He seems to be inviting an exchange, and I avoid it. I wonder why I do, look away, take a notebook and pen out of my pack, sit down on a bench to write. A solitary pigeon approaches to within a foot of me. I ask quietly if it is an angel. The bird avoids eye contact and walks away.
It begins at dawn above the brown waters of the East River. For a split second I imagine a vision of thousands of bodies adrift in whirling eddies of blood, but that's not what I find. The light is soft and the Queensboro Bridge is revealed in mist - grand, fine art. This is Sutton Place on Saturday morning, and there are great clean piles of carefully bagged trash outside tall buildings of plush apartments awaiting removal. A young couple sits on a bench still talking animately after a night out. A man takes photographs through a long lense and apologizes for being in my way even though he is not. He seems to be inviting an exchange, and I avoid it. I wonder why I do, look away, take a notebook and pen out of my pack, sit down on a bench to write. A solitary pigeon approaches to within a foot of me. I ask quietly if it is an angel. The bird avoids eye contact and walks away.
No comments:
Post a Comment