the Brooklyn Bridge at 5am.

Apparently 5 AM is the quietest time in the city, but don’t take my word for it.  If you’re not in a rush, see it for yourself, the fresh city smells, not all tasty. Take a walk through Brooklyn down roads with little traffic in these early hours, awaiting the early risers, runners, trying to escape the miles of overpriced grey slabs, in every resounding footstep.  Walk towards Manhattan and behind the tall buildings will emerge the Brooklyn bridge, and you walk across. Above the cars, and the river and with the wind as a guide, you make it to the top and in bated breath, wait. Wait and watch and soak up the Hudson river like the bread of a gyro that you’ll eat for lunch, and wash it down with American Tune by Simon and Garfunkel.

And I dreamed I was flying, and high up above my eyes could clearly see

The statue of liberty, sailing away to sea, and I dreamed I was flying.  

And finally you’ll start to feel the light even before you see it.  Realizing the sun didn’t actually forget about you, you stand up there for a while feeling invincible; until the world begins to wake back up, so you’ll walk back home.  The light of day uncovers things you didn’t notice were there, like the color of the sidewalk, or the dark circles under your eyes that you catch a glimpse of in the passing car window.  You forgot how many dogs there are to pet, and how many cars can fit in the street at any given time. You forgot about the flowers that adorn every window on the block of brownstones, the green that squeezes its way into every nook and cranny.  And how hot it starts to be as the sun jumps to the highest point in the sky and then proceeds to do a somersault falling back to the ground. You forgot about how many bright skirts and color could adorn the gray. And so you walk quickly until the colors become a blur, because that way you won’t forget.

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