Monday, December 12, 2011

A Monday Morning.

I am sorry. I am so sorry that I can not capture the absolute strange delightfulness of my daily encounters...and the pleasure/pain they evoke simultaneously.

After a 4 AM alarm, I sit upright and see my breath, fasten a body warmer to my core, take the N Express train across the Manhattan Bridge, paranoid to close my eyes for fear that the heavy breathing gawker beside me, admiring my shoes might make a sudden move...exit at Sunset Park or as Realtors like to call it "South Slope" with its industrial buildings, condemned attached homes, and plastic bag strewn streets to tread lightly under the already bumper to bumper Gowanus Expressway, walk five dark blocks past the Brooklyn Marine Terminal with shattered windows and vacant shadows, around the corner to a mammoth steel oil tanker at port on the cold, calm Hudson River and the sun rising over Lady Liberty's torch.

This is set. And I'm 30 minutes early.


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