Sometimes, I feel such ownership of New York. Sometimes, when the city is bright and thin and golden, I stretch out into the thick center of it, the heavy of abundance of this city, and invite it in. Sometimes it is more than I can take, there is no space for everything here. More times this city is hard and heartless and heartbreaking. More times it is chaos and urgency and inequity and the weight of those who have unto those who do not is hefty and real. More times, even in the comfort of my wide, Brooklyn streets and aging, dark trees I cannot see enough emptiness in front of me to quiet the quick pulses within.
