I’m in New York City. Can’t believe I waited so long in my life to love this place. It’s hard to describe it, and so many artists, musicians and writers have tried to do so. It’s not a melting pot, as some say, even though you can see cultures blended and woven and superimposed. It’s full of characters and caricatures. Every hour of the day is full of something: movement, people, sounds, sights. It’s a poet’s dream, on many levels, because there is ample sensory stimulation and people watching like no other place I’ve been.
We took the L train along 14th Street to the end of the line. You emerge from the underground in the Meatpacking district. Buddakan is across the street from the Chelsea Market, Del Posto is near the waterfront, and Sawyer’s old apartment is just a few blocks away. The streets are brick and quaint. It’s much quieter than Midtown, Park Avenue, Lexington, and the business bustle of the morning near The Palace. You can peek down a quiet street, few cars parked along the curb, and the tree branches, not yet turned color, arc across the street. We pass little cafes, shops, a couple of dive bars. We are mere blocks from the Hudson, where Jersey City rises up from the waterfront and the High Line park, a green belt winds its way above the street, an old railway passing through buildings where they would unload goods from the docks. Now, renovated high rises and a few newer buildings, too. We snap a few pictures looking out across the expanse of 14th street where the lads live at the other end in Stuytown. We an’t see it from here, but out there on the horizon, before you get to the East River, is their colorful, cozy apartment.
You never know how your life will intersect with another, what path will lead you here, then there, then back again and finally, here, now, at a wine bar in SoHo, feeling really blessed for friendships and new horizons and the golden thread that weaves us together.
I talk about my love for this city and share a funny story in this YouTube clip. Check it out!