It is easy to forget sometimes that New York City is quite a birder’s paradise. It must be the parks or maybe the location of the city on the route of many migrating birds. Just minutes ago two majestic Great White Herons flew by my window here, choosing a path low between the buildings to fly towards their fishing grounds somewhere west from here. The Hudson?, New Jersey?, River Side Park? The event was a reminder that time flows at different speeds for each one of us. They slowly plowed through the air as if it were a barely viscose liquid, while just a few meters below there was another jam of New Yorkers at the entrance of the 96th street subway station and the traffic police woman barely managed to redirect traffic at the busy intersection. It is a crisp morning today and the shadow of the American flag on the façade of the building across the street flickers nervously in the strong west wind.
(the birds might actually have been two Great Egrets, but their size and speed made me imagine they were the much larger herons. What do I know? )