(Photo by BawBaw)
After a four-hour delay on the ground in Columbus due to whatever wasn’t moving at LaGuardia last night, I am in the Big City, ensconced in mid-town, a coccoon of steel and brick and concrete and people, people, people. I am always stunned to come to New York, so stuffed with humanity. I am always a little fearful here on an island, far away from open land and places to run to. But of course the people here are the city’s blessing–writers far better than I have described how there are millions of stories here, at least one to a person. It’s hard to look at each one, though, because they are all moving so quickly. I imagine stopping someone on the street to ask where he is from, what his story is. Madness, perhaps, but that’s where imagination comes flooding in.
A part of me can’t wait to go home to that expanse of green, to have room to explore what my imagination has brought back, or what was waiting for me there all the time.