Over the past year and a half, I've developed the habit of rarely looking up. Partly due to a fear of being pooh-ed on. Partly to make sure I do not trip on things or bump into others on busy corners where we move like a school of fish. Partly because looking up makes me feel so minuscule in this skyscraper city. Manhattan is only 13 miles long! 2 miles wide! Cultivating over a million residents! Thinking of these numbers makes me feel meek, like a tiny plastic person in a architectural model. More so like a flurrying dot in a snow-globe: where the whole world is constantly looking in at finances, trends, and culture. Shaking it up to stir a commotion occasionally rattling those within.
And sometimes, I'm Gulliver as a giant walking above fellow city-dwellers. On manic days, this overwhelming sense of extraordinary accomplishment cascades throughout my body from head to toe. I glide across the sidewalks, swiftly dancing in between pedestrians. I look up, I face forward and confidently strut the city I had always dreamed of. Thinking I've made it. High off of city life.
|View from the top of Empire State Building, March 2010|
|Subway rats (UnionSq), Spring 2010|