The walk home tonight was brutal. Long. Boring. Painful. I walked on 33rd Street from the West Side Highway to 1st Avenue and then up to 36th Street for a bit. From the start I was tired, and I decided to lie under the white-lit trees that lined the sidewalk on 36th. I couldn’t see much of the sky through the leaves and the glow of the string lights, but I found such comfort in straining to see it, recognizing it there, remembering it had been there all along. I don’t spend much time looking at the sky in Manhattan, which is really a shame. Sure, there’s only so much of it that can be seen at any given time, and it’s usually starless and hazy, but it’s also a big giant beautiful thing, and I hate forgetting that it’s there. I don’t want to be an out of sight/out of mind kind of person. That would suck. To only be fascinated with what is in front of my face, glaring and obvious.
Thing is, I think maybe I suck.
Streets Walked: Clarkson St. to Hudson St. to Leroy St. to West Side Highway to 10th Ave. to 30th St. to West Side Highway to 33rd St. to 1st Ave. to 36th St. to Madison Ave. to Home
Sights Seen: The sky