The Poor Grass In The New Place
This is the first 1,000 characters of 1254 words (5.02 pages) in the essay titled The Poor Grass In The New Place
|The Poor Grass In The New Place
I am strangely idealistic early in the morning. I almost feel like singing sometimes. There is something about Times Square at 7:30 AM. You notice a lot. The desolateness. The workers in their blue jumpsuits, loading and unloading. And the calm in a place not usually known for calm. This is where I wake myself up most mornings with a walk from 42nd to 56th St when I opt to get off the train a little early. The few I run into with some regularity smile at me with an unspoken friendship.
I find pleasure in the view of skyscrapers reaching up to the blurry skies. So different from the reality that is the near-ghetto landscape of Bushwick, the place where I had been only an hour before. The place where I live. I can almost feel everyday on the L, the second I leave Bushwick, like I’m leaving to another world. That second brings back the memory of another world I left. The small island where I was born, the place I can barely even remember anymore. ...
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