Oh Please Don't Change a Thing

A quiet bug nestled its way into my unassuming body, made a home for itself, and caused me to keep my half-conscious head close to the toilet bowl for a long, weary night. Three days without appetite later, I begin to emerge from the clouded cognisance that has been my mind, and my limbs slowly stretch in recollection. Despite the lost time, money, work that needed to be done, despite opportunities missed and so many days having passed, I am glad. As though I not only step out of the heavy quicksand of illness, but that I shed whatever emotional weights were bearing me down as well. Purged, pure, ready to be filled anew with sunshine, excitement, adventure.

I just need to be able to walk more than 500 feet without tiring.



I, too, take the C train uptown. I, too, get off at 42nd street and walk through those same turnstiles into Port Authority Bus Terminal. I, too, get out on the street that leads to glittery Times Square. How gratifying to see it through somebody else's eyes. How reaffirming in the Greatness, of such a small event. Those turnstiles, those steps, they are part of my every day life now. Taking New York for granted, is worth a purging, sometimes.