Savage

We bolster the chasms with humor, filling our screens with ridiculous wit, filling the hours with whims of the universe, tomorrow the city closes and who knows when we will come out. On a crooked Bowery street corner, we say goodbye like it's see you later but everything in the air around us whispers that we do not know when we'll see each other again. The river is crowded, again, but come nightfall, second avenue lies quiet and dark, it's disorienting. I forget to write. Every day is just letting hours pass to see what may happen.

But here's the thing.

It's when you stop counting the hours, when you truly finally forget how they fit in a calendar we've been taught owns us, that the things begin to happen. It's when we finally give in to the futility of our trying to gain control over a universe that we do not own, when we finally relax into the waves of its chaos, that we will learn the secrets which hide within us. The cherry blossoms in Brooklyn Botanic are blooming without anyone to see them.

There's a lesson in there. Wait, you will see.