at large, this looming thing with its age and weight and a populace that goes off in all directions. it’s been years driving through the city at night. a slalom course of broken streets, desperate cabbies and workmen just beginning their night. people meandering, lazy drunk walks. every other block is being repaired, under construction. over constructed, the city steals the night, it grows over its people. i feel the urge to dodge and cut across town and say, ‘look here, this was where i was born’ or ‘look, that’s where i saw my first new york apartment: bathtub doubled as kitchen sink, communal bathroom but bring your own toilet paper please’, or say ‘look, this is where i fell in love with the night, this is where i learned to dance alone and not give a fuck about it’ . to see my home as it was, as it never was, as it will always be.
wild joy to be in the heart of this mad beast once again.