Untitled #412

It was always a golden city, even before I learned exactly what Black and Gold meant and why the sports fans were as crazed as in Boston. It was a golden city because each time I would be bleary eyed and exhausted, the sunlight would illuminate the staggered and defiant skyline for a second sunrise,…

How Mortals (Some, Few) Travel

Flying is not limited to those who only have wings. It is not for the elite. It is not for pilots, air hostesses, co-pilots and the curious and frivolously wealthy, who have more time than us mere mortals. How are they the ones who are able to transcend space and time, hop into a Tardis…

Born on the 4th of July

It's not the fireworks, necessarily, that are intriguing, we decided. It's the silence in between each flash. The afterboom. The inhale as the tiny stars of gunpowder and sparkle slowly,  make their way to earth and fade. For a moment, there's a quiet. Most people don't think about it, we said. Instead, they look through…

What’s that Sound?

It's cloudy, this evening. The sky is a comforting periwinkle, that I remember so well from when I commuted to the New York City yoga studio in the pre-dawn. I know this shade is not affected, here, by the recent fire that made my quiet street feel, again, like that city I left behind. But…

Picasso

There's doing, and there's being, and the former is ridiculously easy until you realize there isn't anything you can "do" any longer. You can walk all the walks and spend hours a day on your feet with a heavy backpack and marvel at the fact that your clothes feel looser and your waist tighter, but…

The Heart in Spring

Nothing is permanent, so what is real? At the root of all of this change and constant movement, is love, omnipresent and warming, as genuine as the slanted light illuminating the tops of the baby leaves. I love spring. I've never felt so much affection and wonder at this season before, nor has been my heart…

Flowers in the Trees.

When the ice cracks, before it starts melting, it's one of the sharpest sounds, followed by relief; Spring is coming. I read once upon a time in the Little House on the Prairie books that on a big lake where the ice was very thick, this sound was like gunshots. Fortunately, I haven't heard that…

A New Sunrise II

The sky is on fire this morning. I can only see parts of the brilliant reds and fierce orange and pink shades cutting into the last of the East's night sky. Or rather, the last of its dark morning sky - night technically ended hours ago, and this line is far less blurred in Pittsburgh.…

A New Sunrise

There was a sunrise this morning, but no skyscrapers. The start of the day was still obscured from my view though; living on top of a hill has its perks, but not all of the time. There was also a man sitting in his car this morning, face illuminated from below by the blue expelled…

Writer’s Block and an Apostle

I still sleep wearing earplugs, but it's the habitual practice of a light sleeper, not the need to drown out the noise, shut out the excitement and anger and stress and the going, going, going... Despite the little blue pieces of foam, I can still hear the morning's birdsong and occasional footsteps going up and…