I stopped for a moment just to peer at Times Square. There must be half a dozen giant Target ads maybe four stories high spread across the sides of the buildings. There is, of course, no Target on Times Square, or even within twenty minutes of it by motorized transport.
A man was standing at the subway entrance talking on the phone. “I’m sorry honey, I have to go,” he said. “I’m standing outside the subway station like some kind of… street person.”
Life demands a certain amount of patience and a certain amount of discipline if it is to be done right. The inverse is, as always, also true.
Right now I am having once again the dreams that I wrote about long ago, then utterly alone. They are spring day dreams, dreams of living, Ethan Allen dreams. They are dreams of a sort that one has to dare to have, because to have them is to risk rather more than can ever be recovered.
The wisdom of the universe at times seems to be unfathomably deep. It is ancient, wild, gentle only inasmuch as it trafficks without pause or apology in what can never have been otherwise. It “knows” what it is doing without knowing anything at all. It is well beyond beautiful. It is, quite simply, sublime.