Room in the Room

The storm was imminent, but my bones had sat in front of that computer too long. I saw my window, and I stepped quickly onto the streets.

I always walk along the river; it is my refuge, my little piece of fresh air and green in the encroaching city. But today, as I stared at the swelling waves and the wind picked up around me, it was not what I was after. I crossed the street. I wanted my city.

Hoards of suits and heels swelled out of financial centers and crossed the streets. I passed the gaping wound of America, looked at the rising steel skeleton and thought how impossibly large it was, how loud it would be if it fell. Between the buildings, the wind was rising, and I turned east, down small alleys crafted when the town was still young. Fall; it was already dark.

Soon, the offices had emptied out. For a short while, downtown was empty, black. A few yuppies ran past me; I could only pity them for choosing to live here. Conveniently close to work. I walked north, passed the Woolworth and remembered standing at that exact street corner years ago; how nothing had changed. Streets shifted, soon I was dodging slow-moving tourists. Countless blocks north along Broadway, the Chrysler building glittered in the distance. I meandered through Chinatown. Dark streets made me think it was late at night; the strange smells reminded me it was dinnertime. Slowly I closed in on Houston Street, made my way west, closed in on home.

New Yorkers get very enamored with their neighborhood. They stay there, live their entire lives there, rarely venturing out to other parts of the city. Why would I, when I have everything I want right here? As humans, we cannot fathom too large a home, so we make it small even where it is not.

I walked around my city, safe in its changing scenery, comforted by its differences and its sound buildings. I thought perhaps I should get out of my West Village rut, explore something new. Perhaps if I move to another part of town, I will see the city as brand new again, and it will sparkle in that magical way that only New York can do.

I am only human. If this City is now my world, then my restless pacings around it are no different from the running I did across the countries. Always looking to the next clean slate. We do not change, we simply repeat with another manuscript.

But, I thought, if this City will be my stage, I will play my part till the lights go out.