Judge and Jury

I leave the studio laughing, and look over underneath the Korean bodega's awning - an amalgamation of cultures in a place some consider to be the ultimate melting pot. I don't see such unification but a new Berlin wall waving and winding with no discernible trajectory. This concrete boundary is covered with frustrated grafitti in the…

The Reverse Commute

Moon faced workers, tourists - all these pale and sickly countenances swimming by. Forms are dressed utterly in black; sometimes the daylight reveals shades of grey, navy or green in the heavy, seasonal outerwear but after 5 p.m., these creatures unite as each round face poking out from the same swaths of dark material It's a staggering school of…

Resentment

I'm in New York and it's Autumn. I'm hot. I shouldn't complain, but I'm hot and this coat is heavy. It's cold in the shade, though, and the dusty residue from the potatoes I just selected at the farmer's market - that's going to be gone soon, too - is bothering me in a wash-my-hands,…

“I Want to Hold Your Hand”

The cool air near to the floor might be kissing my palms, but I still feel the ghost of fingers entwined like that chainlink fence I'll be walking past, if I choose to pause, sip my coffee and remember how that moment would have befit a cigarette, before I continue to walk uptown to start the…

The Golden Ticket

They don't call them "newsagents" here, but that smell is the same - that shockingly dusky smell that is always tinged with cigars and nicotine and the promise of what is inside the cheerful wrapper pallette spread in front of too close fingers. It took me a moment to place, that smell, that bizarre odor that…

Faith. Trust. Pixie Dust.

“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” ― J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan She left the yoga studio half running, half walking in the drizzly insanity of a morning where the train was late, the practice was revealing and work beckoned with a curled, outstretched finger. Balancing better than she had…

Collecting my Thoughts

Just because nothing was enough to form a concrete blog post. I walked far this weekend - from Bleeker to 59th on Saturday. When I finally returned to my neighbohood, I realized that I'd just been walking and not paying total attention. So I started to look around, caught the scent of late-season honeysuckle and saw…

One

It's one of those days when I feel a little sad, but for no discernible reason. The tangy chill of autumn was in the air; I wore two long-sleeved shirts when I set out on my walk and kept them both on until I was well past three miles. The breeze from the water -…

Walking and Writing

When I started to be more flexible regarding my writing - I don't have to post every day or stick to a theme - it became more authentic. I write about what I see, what I think and what I am experiencing, which is a range of anything and everything. Clearly, I have a filter because…

Create Something

Whether it's the facade painted on many a New Yorker's face, or the anonymity granted by iPod headphones and cultivated Instagram feeds, people all too frequently are "fine." Or, in the New Yorker's case, have learned how to polish a persona so bright and shiny that they just transmit the appearance of another person, rendered in…