A day alone in New York

I sat on a bench in the park. The cool breeze gently fanned the sweet smell of peanuts roasting nearby. To my right, a woman who looked too frail to stand tenderly stroked peaceful chords from a large, gold harp. My left side was being serenaded by A Capella street performers whose deep voices were perfectly spun and resonated by the arched bridge over their heads. In front of me, a fountain with a bird covered sculpture was the backdrop for both a high fashion photo shoot and a bride in an enormously puffy white wedding dress. This moment is what has inspired me to build or buy myself a small indoor waterfall, I simply cannot die before having the flowing sound of water soothing my environment.

I sat on the museum steps and watched people. Hordes of uniformed school girls in pleated blue gingham skirts skipped and hopped toward the museum entrance while half a dozen Hasidic teen boys had an animated conversation about something on a piece of paper they seemed to be sharing. Two women in burkas scurried down the sidewalk silently while three Puerto Rican nannies had what sounded like three concurrent monologues as their stroller restrained charges slept. Across the street, two men in dark suits stood silently, waiting for something or someone. A woman walked down the street, screaming nonsense at each person she passed while everyone around her avoided the eye contact that would make them the long term target of whatever demon was upsetting her so much.

New York is breathtaking in its’ simultaneous sensory overload and perfect calmness.

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