305

10-09-08

I flew into Miami tonight. And I must admit, I love to see myself smile. I love to see myself—WHEN—I smile. I can feel my voice latching on to those that make me sense myself through my body. And by that I mean, the voices that make your heart beat—dance around, purr and float. All that, as opposed to yawning. I can feel my voice extending towards theirs—towards the body I imagine when we are distanced by the phone to phone—I can feel my voice wrapping around them, whispering thank you for enticing me—for helping me live in the moment—thank you for reminding me how it is TO FEEL alive. I felt outside the constraints of my body as I drove away from Manhattan. I loved the city then. Loved the city as my eyes fell—good—fell—bye. As if my head was outside the window, watching the aesthetics of the city—memorizing the way it looked. “BRICK” carved into the salmon colored wall outside of Essex—a man eating a heresy bar between the light change—a boy with his backpack, making his spine curve in all disagreeing directions, picking his nose and placing the remains on his tongue. He must eat, I thought. He will eat. He will eat anything he can get. A woman in her wheelchair watched the cars fly by—myself just another one of them—so capable of moving through time quickly, running away, escaping what we feel holds us back. But she, just sat there. Watching the day cave in with light. She was in no rush like us. She knew the secret to life. What was the last street she walked down—I thought—could she remember it? Had she ever even walked at all? I take my capabilities for granted, I told myself as I looked out beyond us all. Manhattan held at a distance—the sky—and on this day there finally was one!—there was a sky! Not a thick exhale of gray, not a lung of smoke, but a light ocean with willowy clouds reflected onto the borders of the world.