Around 10pm on August 2, 2002, with a heart full of dreams, I parked a U-Haul on one of the uglier strips of 47th street and threw my fate to the winds of Manhattan. Me and my GF-at-the-time had left that morning from Michigan. We had nobody to help us move our stuff into our apartment, and it was pissing rain. The first thing I saw when I got out of the truck was a bum shitting on the fence that overlooked the Amtrak rail yard, which bordered our building, canyon-like. The tracks lead into tunnels where, as legend has it, Mole People build their outlaw warrens and live improvised lives as far off the grid as you can logicially get.
I guess what I'm saying is that time is a gift to be savored. We have to appreciate it, and love each other, enjoy each others' bodies once in a while. Still, it's depressing to get old, I'll tell you what.
Happy anniversary, NY.
1 comment:
Cuss word in display text!
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