Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Alice in Wonderland

The plush blanket of down-like snow has fallen off.
The stoic trees standing guard with icicles as fingers, now sway in the breeze.
Chirping birds are back performing their specialized responsibilities - gathering food, building nests or repairing those that were damaged in the harshness of winter.
Their soprano melodies blend with the symphony of city sounds -
the bass sounds of the trains and heavy sanitation trucks,
the paced intonation of the Latin and Caribbean conversations,
the trumpeting whoop of the ambulances,
and the other vehicles providing the octave variances depending on their engines,
with an occasional violin-like screech.

With a childlike innocence, I am experiencing life in Brooklyn for the first time,
soaking in every sensory experience
and filing it into my creative memory.
I see the philharmonic synchronization of city sounds,
the artistry in the graffiti murals
and the theatrical nuances of the subway rides.

I am a Brooklyner, a New Yorker, an artist at home in the nucleus of creativity.

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