For ten days, the muse flowed through me. For ten days, I saw the muse in every face, every situation, every structure. In every towering building, in the bottom of a frothy cappuccino, in the legs of a crisp wine, in the delicacy of fine cuisine, in the melody of a subway musician, in the warm embrace of an old friend, in the halls of the old concrete that once haunted me, in the faces of childhood friends, in the packed subways, in waxed figures, in soothing massages, in a game of pool, in the giggles of a walking down the street, on a strangers front steps, in a hot shower, on the faces of children playing, in the silence of the night and the chaos of the morning.
I saw the muse in family, friends, strangers. I felt the muse surge through me and break all boundaries. In tears and smiles, moments of uncertainty and moments of clarity…I felt it. And for someone who travels through this life with a fear of being numb…I don’t regret a single moment of that feeling. The beauty of the city hypnotizes me, welcomes me, warms me, enlightens me, changes me. And I am certain, it is my home.