April 16, 2021 - Everything is gradual; everything is right now.

I fell into a timelapse tunnel of light and sound at the corner of West Fifty-fifth Street and Sixth Avenue this morning. It didn’t hurt at all. I watched buses drive north on Sixth Avenue for a while and listened to the sound of birds chirping, and flying into, and flying out of the bushes and plants that were growing from the marble base of soil and dirt, which was just beside me. A fountain with twelve faucets facing upwards sprayed water toward the sky; I watched the water rise and listened to the waves fall back down again: a gentle crash ––– a splash. The sun appeared in the sky but only for a few moments. A woman sat on the other side of the fountain with a baby stroller that was carrying an infant. She spoke with the child as though she were speaking with a close friend. “Are you ready to go home now,” she said, “are you ready?” Just before they left, a man and a woman in their thirties and dressed in casual Friday business attire sat down across the way; they began taking sips of their coffees while seated farther apart than they would be during non-pandemic times. Non-pandemic times = normal times = times = time. What I’m saying is that the timelapse tunnel of light and sound at the corner of West Fifty-fifth Street and Sixth Avenue that I fell into this morning brought me back to this: everything is gradual; everything is right now.