Overhead and through the speakers, Kanye’s insisting that “diamonds are forever.”
Hair hat-flattened and fingers pink, I wonder why I’m alone at night in the city in a part I’ve never been to.
I’ve just missed my bus and it’s cold so I wait in Urban Outfitters. When I step outside, the streets glitter and swell with din. “Fuck you,” some girl’s voice rings as she passes by me. She’s on the phone. Her lips are a bright pink.
In going into the city, I’d anticipated a brief respite. False: the city, by default, is an adventure. It always is. I always feel like I’m running or floating when I’m here, like my feet are hovering three inches above the ground and I’m skirting around from place to place. The city is movement, it’s energy, and if you stop to observe closely, you might notice that it pulsates…
(orig. posted on tumblr)