So many people live in my apartment building, car companies pay for ad space in our elevator. So many people live in this apartment building, I seldom push the elevator button; someone’s always beat me to it.
So many people live here, hundreds of dusty bikes wreath the walls of the inner courtyard. So many people leave bikes, I’m sure some go lost, recede into the tangle of bars and gears. So many people pass through here, there’s a convenient store in the courtyard, and some days, a one-woman farmer’s market by entryway # 26.
My apartment building is home to so many people that when I patter down the 12th floor hallway towards the open foyer, and look over the ungreen courtyard at the people on the opposite side, they look about as tiny as people doing the wave across a baseball diamond. Those are my neighbors in China.
A few more days
A final Hi meeting
The local neighborhood bar has a quiet time between six and nine. It is a place that specializes in coffee, beer and seasonal menus. There is just enough of each for a satisfying snack and effective buzz. After the time when the laptop lids close and before the social gatherings start -- there is a sort of twilight*. Often this time is a fugitive ground rife with creative inspiration and meditative work -- of the kind that results in personal reward.*twilight may refer to civil, nautical or astronomical variety depending on your social or terrestrial condition
A man positions his mouse on the edge of his browser window. He clicks, holds and drags the viewport first left then right. The content of a video game promo micro site responds and adapts to the available space. To the man, this is more delightful than the game itself.
A man laboriously moves his piano down three levels onto the subway platform. Classic vocals and strided chords -- he played so well I swore he was blind. Oblivious to the heat on that August stage, he was most in touch with his audience -- whom he elevated with his music.
A woman should do exactly as she pleases no matter what a man may think.
As the Dalai Lama once said, "It is a time when there is much in the window, but nothing in the room."
"No one understands me," she said. Her grandmother was silent for a minute. It seemed she was searching for an answer in the star speckled sky. "But no one understands anyone in this world, darling. We are all unique. It is what gives us a sense of wonder."