November 19, 2021 - Alone with the cold and the night

I walk the Brooklyn Heights Promenade again, the first cold night of fall. There’s wind everywhere, and for a moment, as I’m looking out across the East River, I see the buildings and the lights, but I forget about Manhattan; I forget about Brooklyn; and I forget that this place in the big giant world is named New York City. Anywhere is everywhere. And for now, I’m alone inside of myself, and alone with the cold and the night ––– quiet, still, and breathing.