I had a moment in the late afternoon, where I sat on this bench overlooking the East River for an hour. It was the fastest, slowest, most peaceful hour I’ve had in a long time. I simply sat. I thought about how I got here, and where I’m going. I thought about all the people in every tall building in Manhattan, before my eyes, and every wayfarer in the grids of street below. I watched the Staten Island Ferry slug its way back and forth a handful of times, I saw sailboats drift along the water, I saw ships of every shape. I spotted airplanes like seagulls and seagulls like clouds working their way across the sky, and helicopters landing on rooftop pads, like flies on a windowsill. I felt sunlight and the shining day upon my face, watched a beam of gold trickle along the water that rippled soft. I felt at ease, I felt at home.

There is something to be loved about a peaceful moment in the city.

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