The left eye is fully awake and stares out the window. The right eye does not even think about waking up. There are dreams to be dreamt, there is still time to rest. The street sounds have barely changed since last night, yet the birds are back. There is a chirping now and then between the breaths of traffic. The is back too, the colors are not yet.
The guy by the wall between Dunkin Donuts and McDonalds on the west side of Broadway is sitting with a bright white cup in his hands, waiting for the pedestrian traffic to pick up. He might be in his 60’s. His old friends walk by, they wave their hellos. The Circular delivery men drop of their bundles and pick up their coffees. The old man just grabbed two of the heavy packages and carried them to the newsstand. I have seen him sort the sections of the Times before. His black Milk-crate, his seat on Broadway, is waiting for him now, one empty cup and one with a plastic lid. It might be his morning coffee. He goes in to Dunkin Donuts. What might he be picking up? He comes out with more bundles, more papers. I do not quite understand.
It is 6:04, the heavy looking New York Times truck arrives. The young helper of the Newspaper-stand man takes out more packages. Now it is more clear. The men were handling yesterday’s paper. The packages go back to the New York Times. The old man now leans against the wooden wall built to protect the entrance to what used to be Latin Quarter and a Gap and now will be turned into a Chasse Manhattan bank. (Was supposed to be, by tomorrow, but is far from finished from what I see.)
The sun- just hit the tips of the taller buildings. The colors went on. The is bright now, even brighter against a gray and dark blue sky. The birds are louder.
The old man carries the bundles with today’s paper, one by one, towards the front of the News-Stand. He is now done and with one hand in his pocket he returns to his Milk-Cart right underneath the large Dunkin’ Donuts sign. The News-Stand man in his heavy whitish shirt comes out to talk to joke and point around.
The old little lady with her bags just arrived, making her early her rounds. She goes straight into McDonald’s.
The workers are arriving at the Chase Construction site. Another unstoppable New York day has begun. A long, long time ago.
heavy rain changes the sound of the street.
Heavy rain changes the sound of almost anything... except, maybe, my tummy growling. Where's lunch?
I miss NYC!!!!!!
*pout*
Witold.......
New York through your eyes is lovely, and beautiful. You still notice the little things that makes up every little moment as one does when traveling. I miss that. Thank you :)
Thank you so much. Every single day is a journey to my favorite city. I feel pretty blessed.