I should confess I’ve demolished a pastrami Reuben on rye, which was magic. And seemed very New York. Note to self, I need to find proper New York bagels to try.
I think I’m in Greenwich village, a little different to the Greenwich of two days ago with its empty silences filled alternately by waves, or the sound of the wind in the poplars. I wish you could have heard the sound of the wind in the poplars, it was unearthly but so centring. Vibrating on some harmony common to all life. Here my ears are full of Billy Holiday, conversations, the kitchen clatter, laughter, horns & traffic. So different, but also so alive and pulsing. Happy. I think, or maybe I shouldn’t think too much. Continue reading “New York… is it me?”