I moved to New York to grow but there is no room. That rose that grew from concrete in this city was picked, packed, and sold to someone who could never understand the beautiful struggle it endured to bloom. Here I am halfway and I can confidently conclude this corner of the world is another fool’s paradise rated by Michelin stars and one’s ability to bullshit on command.
I’m not hating, I’m observant. Thankful for the questions and Answers.
It’s a burden to be in the know or not. The jungle catches you off guard like winter, winter, winter, summer. Forced connections, always touching someone or something because quite frankly there isn’t not enough space.
Learning from the past we persevere together despite living in our compassionatless bubble. Is Port Authority Ellis Island? Is this the Brooklyn Renaissance? Brilliantly we wound each other.
Temptation is never far like a shadow or a ghost. We applaud our own creativity as we fight against what is normal and what is acceptable. Why you ask? Why not? What’s not a good reason to fight when one feels the need to be free?
Still stubborn and driven. I understand and appreciate the mission. Afterall, wouldn’t you rather try to cross The Bridge of San Luis Rey and be on your way or sit in the same spot dreaming of that very day?