New York, The Magical_-_

2/3 Train, 96th Street to Fulton Street, October 13, 2014
I was reading Vargas Llosa’s Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter. She saw the name of a famous musician in the chapter heading and struck up a conversation. I had never heard of him but he was one of the sounds of her earlier life in South America. Is there a difference between a conversation held underground hurdling through space and a stationary one up above? I’d have to say yes: conversations seem to evoke a sense of time.
After thirty years as an accountant she’s moving on to Chinese medicine.

New York, the magical,
where I meet stranger
that are not strangers.
They are loving, embracing,
amazing. They are warm and kind.
Strangers that make up
the fabric of my beloved
city. The city where everything
is possible, including the
most beautiful and
sublime encounters….
with my fellow man &
women. Encounters that
fill my soul and make
me feel blessed.

Read a poem by Allison J. K.

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