on the occasion of becoming a true new yorker. Ten Years.

Some people want to journey to the edge of things, to find themselves at the foot of mountains or fringes of forests. To find a patch of land to raise horses, chickens, see the sun moving across the entire sky. Then there are people like me, who just want to be in the middle of things, to go deeper into the compact spaces between things, who like hallways and elevators and alleys and streetlights. I want to be in the middle of everything, but most particularly of New York. I feel sure that Central Park is actually Eden, and yes that makes the rest of the city the barren dust parched land of toil. But wouldn’t you want to live close to Eden, to walk through it on your way to dinner or after a dentist appointment?

I want to be in the middle of things, I don’t want to cast out into the wider world, I want to burrow deeper in to here. I want tiny subway cars to run through my viens.