it’s cloudy over new york today, and that’s a blessing. the usually overbearing rays of sun that have been pounding over the city are finally trapped away. for the first time since i’ve been here, i can be outside without the worry of immediate dehydration.
it’s been so hot that my desert tested skin hasn’t had the ability to protect me. my dreams of serene strolls through bleeker street have been upgraded to a brisker walk. i’ve caught myself only shortening the space between my steps and slowing down the pace when i pass in front of an open door that takes mercy on its passerbys by spewing out the most generous bursts of cool air.
and yet that hasn’t stopped me from spending my days walking. how could i trade all the discoveries i’ve made on foot for sterile experiences in an air conditioned car?
so rather than race my way through the city, today i sit. not sure how long this will last, i’m thankful for the breeze that tickles my neck while i lay on a timber sun bed looking over the hudson.
my view is slightly obstructed by daffodils, cedar and sumac plants in the most unnatural setting. thirty feet over street level, where trains once roared through manhattan, now sits a tiny paradise amongst the concrete structures. the new york city high line has quickly become a favorite space of mine. despite the hundreds of people walking past me, i feel as though i’m the only one to have found the key unlocking this secret garden.
i will spend hours here today, mesmerized and entertained by the struts of visitors: the clumsy way their feet try to cling onto their flip flops while maintaining an even step; the slow shuffle of couples that seems to want the mile long walk to last just a little longer for them; the canter of barefoot children escaping their mothers, not realizing that hot floor is unforgiving in its pain.
there’s a man with a saxophone in the corridor to my left, projecting at just the right volume for me to feel like there’s a soundtrack composed for my afternoon. to my right there’s a shallow flat stream where walkers are invited to dip their feet and cool down. the fluttering of the water is the perfect compliment to the music.
and as the orange and purple shaved-ice-cones of nearby twins begin to melt and clumsily stain the grass they shouldn’t be stepping on, i realize that the sun is beginning to make its way out again. my perfectly lazy shady sunday afternoon is about to end.