Riding in the taxi from Laguardia to the city, the sight of the Manhattan skyline emerged, looking to me like a cluster of distant tombstones. We raced along the East River, slicing through the beams of autumn sun at razor speeds. Each apartment building, overpass, basketball hoop and bench appeared like a single frame in a movie, flashed in front of my eyes. It didn't seem real...something inside of me hoped that the taxi would never stop; that I would never step down into those cemented streets, that I could continue observing the scene, in my museum way, from behind the window forever.
But the taxi did stop. And with sun in my eyes, a tightness in my throat and my two suitcases in hand, I stepped up to my first stop: Amy's apartment.
I've now since moved to my second stop, as I search for a more permanent living situation. And soon I will be moving to my third stop, still having no place of my own to live!
There must have been something to that feeling in me as we drove into Manhattan, that feeling that seemed to say "keep moving. don't stop."
Effectivement...I haven't stopped since I arrived.
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2 comments:
You haven't stopped since you arrived...
Well that's no surprise, as Sinatra sang you're now in the city that never sleeps.
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