"Like the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud on the day of rain, so was the appearance of the brightness all around. Such was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell on my face, and I heard the voice of one speaking." Ezekiel 1:28
If you talk to an unrelated selection of New Yorkers, you will most often find a similar theme weaved into their colorful stories of just when and how they made this city their home.
Their resounding message will sound simple really.
Came chasing a dream, carrying a guitar, following a girl, searching for more, escaping the same, and they just stayed....
They sludged through the rude winters and suffered through the stifling heat.
The minute hand on New York's internal clock ticked faster than others, their feet fell in line, and they blinked for a mere moment which turned into another calendar year.
"Hard to believe. Hard to believe." A repeated mutter on chapped and glossed lips alike.
The tips of the ginkgo trees are already curling their edges and turning a golden brown.
The breeze from the East River makes me grab for my forgotten sweater and the familiar ache of Fall settles in my chest.
I could consider this another fleeting Monday at the office.
A foot soldier in this fleeting fight, punching the proverbial time clock of life out of duty. A carbon copy of fellow ants forging forward and missing the view.
"Slow down, you move too fast.
You got to make the morning last.
Just kicking down the cobble stones.Looking for fun, and feeling groovy."
You got to make the morning last.
Just kicking down the cobble stones.Looking for fun, and feeling groovy."
God's Promise and the 59th Street Bridge.
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